Inside
by Dapper
Summary: When Legolas and Melpomaen meet in Imladris, they find that, despite all their differences, they actually have a lot in common. Fluff, slash. A silly bit of fun
1. Chapter 1: Inside

**INSIDE, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG-13**

**Title:** On the Inside

**Author:** dapper scavenger

**Type:** FPS

**Pairing:** Melpomaen/Legolas

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** none

**Disclaimer:** Tolkein's. Not mine.

**Summary:** Legolas and Melpomaen meet. This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 02: Hobbies.

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It was on yet another truly glorious day that Legolas Thranduilion found himself wandering through the maze of paths that connected the many various parts of Imladris. There was a mildness to the air; neither too warm, nor too cold and the great broad-leaved trees lent a dappled shade to his eyes despite the lack of clouds to obscure the sun still high overhead. His golden hair lay limply over his shoulders, still damp from the bath he had taken after the morning's swordplay.

He had acquitted himself well but was very much aware of a lingering soreness in his back, shoulders and arms. He smiled ruefully to himself. One did not challenge the mighty Glorfindel and expect to get away with it unscathed! Abruptly he altered course and followed a path to his right that appeared less well travelled, if the weeds poking through the walkway were anything to go by. Today he wanted to send some time alone.

He had no real destination in mind, unless you could count the sorting of one's thoughts into a clear and decisive course of action as a destination and, really, that was the kind of complicated idea that had led him out here in the first place. Although, to be honest, he wasn't exactly sure where 'here' was, save that it was nowhere near where anyone might think to look for him. He frowned at the inward spiral his thinking was taking and forced his mind back to the issue at hand.

It was not lightly that Thranduil, his father, had sent him to Lord Elrond's beautiful lands. Every able-bodied warrior was needed in his native Greenwood, for the darkness that threatened its borders was growing ominously closer. Attacks by both orcs and spiders were now so commonplace that travelling between the two realms had required twice the escort than his previous visit only a hundred years prior.

He was glad to have come, however. A few months under Elrond's roof would be a welcome respite before having to head home. Here he could let go; there was no need for him to stay at battle-ready alertness, constantly waiting for the next attack and heading out day after day to fight.

_And yet,_ he thought with a sigh, even though I finally have a chance to enjoy other pursuits, _I spend all my time in the training grounds, practising my archery and sparring with the guards that accompanied me._ It was as though none of the Greenwood elves remembered how to relax.

He did enjoy the company of Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, however. They were excellent sparring partners, admirable in both technique and experience, though their methods were … different. They flung themselves into a melee with gleeful chaos. It was a stark contrast to the grim fluidity of his own style. He supposed it was a result of their different circumstances. The twins hunted orcs for the satisfaction of revenge but for him it was a matter of survival and pride.

An odd noise interrupted his contemplation and he paused, glancing about. It sounded like scratching, like stone against stone though much softer, less harsh. It stopped and started at frequent intervals, long scratches, short scratches, a pause, and then a flurry of scraping accompanied by muttering. How intriguing!

With careful, quiet movements the blonde elf followed the strange sound to its source. The path opened up into a small, round garden of sorts. Around its circumference stood several pale columns, maybe two heads taller than himself, connected by ivy-covered lintels. At the centre lay a round, flat stone, greenish-grey but for a round brown-grey marking at its centre. Clearly something had sat upon that base for a long time before its removal. All this he had noticed in an instant but it was not the setting that had caught his attention.

A lone elf sat sideways upon a curved stone bench opposite, his back resting against one of the pillars. Long, dark hair obscured his features just as his loose grey robes concealed his form, pooling over the edges of the bench. It made him seem very small; he must be very young. His knees were drawn up to form a rest for the several pieces of paper he was furiously scribbling on. Legolas was pleasantly surprised as he recognized the source of the mysterious sound.

It was a peaceful scene, so unlike those he had grown accustomed to at home. Innocent. He was truly surprised he had been able to get so close to this strange elf without having been noticed, even though he had moved to stand out in the open and was now staring directly at the writer.

_If I were an enemy he would be dead a dozen times over!_

What sort of elf has this sort of life, where he feels so safe that he has no need to be constantly watchful? What must that be like? In the end, curiosity won him over.

"What is it you are writing that has you so engrossed, I wonder?"

Though softly spoken, his words cut through the air as piercingly as if he had shouted them. Long, silken hair whipped round with a cry of surprise and the quill fluttered to the ground. Dark, startled eyes fastened onto his own, wide and flustered. This was no youngster, Legolas realised, somewhat embarrassed at having thought so in the first place. His eyes were honest yet held the depth of knowledge only experience could bring. No, he was not a child but neither was he ancient. The elf before him was incredibly, well, petite. There was no other word for it. He watched, entranced, as the dark hair settled into place, a few errant strands clinging to perfect cheekbones, which were currently flushed with colour. One delicate hand fluttered nervously as it suddenly found itself devoid of the writing implement it had previously held.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you," Legolas continued, though in reality he wasn't sorry in the slightest. He'd rather liked the reaction he'd gotten from this mysterious stranger, but he was nothing if not well-mannered.

"No. I mean, it's alright. You surprised me." The stranger flushed and looked away, his eyes darting towards the quill resting on the ground. He leaned forward to retrieve it. "Not many come this way anymore. I'm used to having it to myself."

Legolas didn't answer. He was riveted. As the elf had moved forward out of the shade, his hair had caught a shaft of sunlight and it glowed! It was not black as he had originally thought but a deep, dark shade of reddish-brown. It made him feel warmed from the inside out.

_Ai, Elbereth!_ he thought, stunned, _how is everything in Imladris so beautiful?  
_  
"Melpomaen."

Legolas blinked, confused.

"My name," the stranger said, uncertainly gesturing to himself. "Melpomaen." He seemed to be waiting for something. At that moment Legolas realised he had been standing there staring at the poor thing for some time. He jolted into motion rather ungracefully and swiftly crossed the courtyard to take a seat at the other end of the bench, forcing a practised mask of casual indifference into place.

"Mae govannen, Melpomaen, though you have answered a different question to the one I asked." Apparently this was not the response the dark-haired elf was expecting, as Legolas was rewarded with a bemused look.

"I'm writing a poem." Melpomaen met the wood-elf's gaze, challenging him to make something of it. There was a moment's pause as the two considered one another, until Legolas gestured towards the document.

"Will you read it to me?"

Melpomaen hesitated, regarding the blonde elf uncertainly. Legolas began to wonder if he had asked too much, but then his reluctant companion seemed to gather himself and, after a deep breath, started to recite:

"The withered trees of yore are watching  
Leaves are turning in the wind  
Hear the weeping willow grieving  
How her children must have sinned …"

The blonde warrior felt his eyes widening but fought to maintain his cool appearance. While it was true he preferred more physical pursuits such as riding and archery he was, nonetheless, a prince of his land and therefore required to be well-read in the more scholarly arts of music, history and literature. He had studied the various forms of poetry; the use of rhythm and rhyme, assonance and alliteration, metaphor and simile, but this… the verse that had just been delivered had to be, without a doubt, the worst he had ever heard in his entire life. He wasn't entirely sure how to react. The smaller elf glanced nervously at him as he continued.

"Brok'n by the leafy bough-age  
Sunlight falls on last attempt  
Shining on the deep'ning lovers  
Clasped hands show what once was meant"

Legolas felt his lips quirk of their own accord and gripped the edge of the bench tightly, forcing himself to concentrate on the bite of gritty stone into his palm. He desperately struggled to maintain his composure as the would-be poet eagerly pressed on, those dark eyes shining with a strange anticipation.

"Darkly now the moon regards them  
Sitting on that verdant shore  
Joined by a silvered …"

Legolas snorted. He couldn't help it. His hand flew to his mouth as he valiantly sought to retain self-control, but a snicker escaped through his fingers. His eyes screwed up and then he was lost, uproarious laughter bursting from his lips.

"Oh, Melpomaen… Forgive me," he managed to choke out. "It's just… I don't…"

The dark-haired elf was staring at Legolas incredulously.

"Tell me," he breathed, and the tone was so strange, so full of need and hope, that Legolas found his bout of mirth receding. Guilt now set in and he opened his eyes to look at his companion awkwardly. He faltered, unsure of what to say, for there was no feigning praises now; the little scholar would surely see through them. The blonde heaved a regretful sigh.

"To be honest with you, I think that was the most dreadful poem I have ever heard."

Melpomaen gasped and drew back, and Legolas dipped his head sadly. What a shame, he thought, that I have driven away this beauty so soon. He was completely unprepared, therefore, for the quiet laughter that floated to his ears. It was at once happy and sad, and ended in a contented little sigh.

Legolas snapped his gaze back up in disbelief to find Melpomaen smiling gently at him.

"Thank you."

"umm…" came his rather inarticulate rejoinder.

"I have waited a long time for someone to say that to me," Melpomaen explained apologetically to his bewildered companion.

"You have?" Legolas was dumbfounded. "Why?"

Melpomaen shuffled his papers into a neat bundle and set them to one side, placing a small stone on top to keep them from the wind. The quill, however, he kept in his grasp, twirling the soft tapered end in his fingers as he thought about his answer.

"I started writing poetry a few years ago. I knew I wasn't very good, but I had spent hours studying every word written in our library and I was enchanted by the notion that I could one day contribute something to those shelves myself. At first, I tried very hard to write something… beautiful, profound… something that made the reader laugh out loud or weep with sympathy or gasp in horror. I wanted to make people feel."

Legolas recognised that faraway look of wistful melancholy on the dark-haired elf and felt a sympathetic pang of nostalgia in his heart. He'd had dreams too, in his youth.

"It didn't take very long for me to realise I was never going to achieve that particular ambition; I haven't the talent. I asked my friends to read my work, to see if they could help me improve, but whenever I showed them what I had written they would say 'that is very nice, Melpomaen' or 'another good attempt, Melpomaen'."

The dark haired elf laughed, though there was no cheer in it.

"My 'friends' think so little of me. They dare not tell me the truth for fear of hurting my feelings. They think I am fragile. 'Little Mel' they call me, when they think I cannot hear them, as if I am an elfling. Even the twins, and I am older than they are! All I want is to be treated like an equal, and that's why I started to write this… drivel. I wanted to know just how awful my poetry had to become to get someone to tell me the truth - and I have just found out!

"This," he declared with an impish grin, waving the quill in the general direction of the stack of papers, "is my masterpiece! I shall write no more!"

Legolas wasn't sure what to make of that. "Let me get this straight: you have been deliberately writing nonsense, for years, in the hope that eventually someone would disparage it and insult you."

Melpomaen nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly."

"You are mad," Legolas deadpanned. "I've met goblins with more common sense than you! Did it not occur to you to simply confront your friends about it?"

This set the diminutive elf into a fit of giggling so infectious that Legolas could not help but smile.

"Yes, yes, of course I did that. They were ever so polite about it – and completely evasive. I think it quite funny that it would take one of our wild, woodland cousins to treat me with any modicum of respect," the little elf teased.

"Wild are we?" Legolas countered affably, while vividly remembering how he had spent the day prior. "I'd rather that than prim and proper like you Noldorin! Locking yourselves inside stuffy council chambers on beautiful, sunny days and loitering round corners like giant black effigies of so-called diplomacy."

"Ah. I see you've met Master Erestor. Are you one of the advisors that came with the party from Mirkwood, then?" Melpomaen inquired, puzzled. The fair-haired elf dressed like a soldier but he could not think of a reason why a Mirkwood guard would be required in a council session and, looking closer, he noticed how the unknown elf comported himself in a dignified and courteous manner. Most curious!

"Something like that." Legolas made a face, but inwardly he was amused that the other elf did not know his identity. Anonymity was not something he was used to! "My father decided I should practise my diplomacy and negotiation 'skills', since he's put so much effort into educating me on the matter."

"And you'd rather be doing anything but, I take it?"

Legolas caught himself smiling ruefully. Why was it that even this far away from his father's presence he still felt the need to please him?

"Adar would be most unhappy to discover that I am so transparent." He sighed heavily and leaned against the pillar at his back. "Do not get me wrong: I greatly desire to become all that is expected of me, but sometimes it is a wearisome burden. Always it is I that they look to for answers and for leadership. Always it is I that has to make the hard decisions. Just once I wish…"

"You wish…?" Melpomaen prompted after Legolas trailed off into pensive stillness.

The question brought Legolas out of his wandering thoughts and he blushed lightly, realising what he had just said. "It is nothing, really…" he started to withdraw, but something in the smaller elf's earnest expression made him continue.

"I just wish that, for once, I could enjoy not being in command; that I could take comfort in the fact that someone else is taking responsibility and all I have to do is follow orders." He paused to brush his hair out of his eyes. How unexpected, that he felt able to open up to this stranger whom he had only just met. Perhaps it was because the smaller elf didn't know who he was or perhaps because Melpomaen had just confessed something equally personal to him. Either way, it felt oddly liberating to be able to articulate these feelings that had plagued him for so long. "That probably makes no sense to you, does it?"

Melpomaen didn't answer straightaway. He levelled a measuring gaze upon the blonde elf, until Legolas started to feel a little nervous by the appraisal. Dark brown eyes met brilliant blue and all was quiet.

_Valar!_ Legolas thought uneasily,_ what is going on in that head of his?_

"No. No, I think it makes perfect sense." Melpomaen cocked his head slightly to one side, deep in thought. "But do you think you could accept it – going back to being a subordinate now that you've tasted authority?"

The blonde elf cast his gaze skyward. That was a most awkward question to answer! How would he know until it happened?

"Duty demands it of me but do we not all deserve a brief respite now and then?"

Legolas wasn't sure what happened next. There was a flurry of sudden movement, a flash of grey and brown and black rushing towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he started violently. Belatedly, he tried to bring his arms up to fend off the swift attack, sore muscles protesting, only to stop at the feel of something sharp at his neck.

"Don't move," Melpomaen commanded in a low voice.

Legolas froze, alarmed, confused and utterly shocked. The smaller elf filled his vision, pushing him firmly against the pillar at his back. He was intensely aware of a knee pressed dangerously into his groin and the point of Melpomaen's quill resting against the tender skin of his throat, the feather softly tickling his chin.

"What…?" he croaked, and then stopped as the attempt at speaking caused the quill to dig deeper, marking him with a thin red line. A drop of liquid that could have been either ink or blood slowly trickled down to the collar of his tunic.

His assailant wound his free hand into Legolas' unbraided hair and pulled his head back forcefully, fully exposing his throat. Legolas whimpered at the strange fire that seemed to light Melpomaen's eyes and the dark-haired elf smirked.

"I have a debt to repay."

And then the smaller elf was upon him, capturing his lips in a heated, fervent kiss. Legolas immediately stiffened and tried to draw back, but there was nowhere to go. Trapped between razor-sharp tip and cold, hard stone he had no choice but to capitulate to Melpomaen demands, granting entrance to his mouth. The tongue that darted past his defences tasted of apples and nuts. He groaned softly as Melpomaen's hand clutched the back of his neck, drawing him in deeper, and he drew a shuddering breath to try to calm his reeling mind. In one surreal corner of his mind he noted that Melpomaen smelled of paper and ink, overlying a more personal scent of apples and all things autumnal.

Wait… all things autumnal? Where had that come from? The eyes that he had not even realised he'd closed snapped back open. What was he doing, returning this kiss?

He tensed again and Melpomaen lurched abruptly backwards, breathing heavily, to retake his seat on the bench. Legolas all but flew to his feet, stumbling a good few paces distance. The two stared at each other: Legolas' flustered and incredulous stare fixed on a rather self-satisfied Melpomaen.

"What…" he managed to get out. How dare this… this *Noldo* assault his person like that! As soon as he recovered from his shock, he was certain he'd be very angry! Right now, though, it was all he could do to form a coherent thought.

Melpomaen chuckled. "I hope you don't mind. It was all I could think of at the time, and I simply had to repay you.

"What?" Legolas found all his usual eloquence deserting him today. "Repay me for what?"

"For insulting me, of course. You fulfilled my dreams so I wanted to try and do the same for you - to put you in a position where you had no control, no authority, even if only for a moment. I hope it was enough."

Legolas gawked unashamedly at the dark-haired elf. He was mad: utterly and completely mad. At what point exactly had he said 'ravage me by quill-point, please'? He touched his lips, finding them slightly swollen from Melpomaen's less than tender ministrations.

_I wish that just once I could enjoy not being in command, that I could take comfort in the fact that someone else is taking responsibility and all I have to do is follow orders…_

His earlier confession reverberated in his mind. This is what Melpomaen tried to accomplish? This was his attempt to take the burdens of duty from him - by assuming command over him?

_Don't move._

The memory of the terse demand sent a shiver up his spine. He'd been completely taken in by this strange elf. He'd seemed so innocent, so obviously harmless – who would have though that such a wicked, sensual catamite simmered below that innocuous surface? Legolas shifted uncomfortably as he unexpectedly found himself growing aroused. His dilated pupils found Melpomaen waiting for his answer.

"No," Legolas said with certainty, though his was tone filled with wonder, "it was not enough."

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	2. Chapter 2: Not enough

**INSIDE, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: R**

**Title:** On the Inside

**Author:** dapper scavenger

**Type:** FPS

**Pairing:** Melpomaen/Legolas

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** smut, slash

**Disclaimer:** Tolkein's. Not mine.

**Summary:** Elves can get a little bit carried away. This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 19: Flowers

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All reason had deserted him. Surely that could be the only explanation for the sudden, ravenous craving that sprang to life deep in his belly; this need for an elf he had barely met. It was insane!

Legolas moistened his lips and took two strides forward before dropping to his knees in front of the dark-haired elf.

"It was not enough," he repeated in a hoarse whisper.

Melpomaen drew in a sharp breath. Legolas could only imagine what he must be thinking. It was not every day that proud warriors of the Greenwood threw themselves onto the ground before little Noldorin scribes, with lust in their eyes and a prominent bulge in their trousers. The form-fitting fabric did little to hide the sculpted thighs and trim hips from which the startling evidence jutted forth: a blatant and unashamed declaration of desire.

Perhaps it was this which gave Legolas the ability to act so shamelessly for, though he was not lacking in courage, he was not normally in the habit of approaching strangers in such a brazen manner! Yet, given this patently obvious reaction, there seemed little point in attempting to obfuscate.

Legolas watched, tense with anticipation, as those dark eyes grew wide and blackened. The archer's head was tilted back to meet Melpomaen's gaze squarely, his golden hair spilling over his shoulders and exposing a pale throat marred only by that single cruel, red line. Melpomaen's quill was sharp.

From there the heated appraisal lowered to shoulders defined by years of wielding the bow. The small elf's inspection lingered at the chest, not apprehensive in the least but rather a voyeuristic extension of this most self-indulgent perusal. The archer's pulse quickened upon catching sight of the small, pink tongue that darted out to wet Melpomaen's lips.

One final, hasty glance downwards was all it took to bring about the diminutive elf's descent into the same heady madness that had already claimed his woodland cousin. Melpomaen slid from his seat and onto the wood-elf's waiting lap in one smooth, languid movement.

Legolas inhaled sharply. He hardly felt the weight of the slight body straddling him but he did feel the delicious warmth where it rested on thighs and hips and other, even more agreeable, areas.

The dark-haired elf smiled playfully, a look filled with mischief and promise. Legolas matched it with a pleased smirk of his own.

"Will my touch be enough?" Melpomaen's murmured words broke the silence. One delicate hand lifted to hover in the air a mere hair's breadth from the wood-elf's cheek. Legolas shivered, resisting the urge to lean into that touch, in spite of the eager thrill those softly spoken words engendered.

"Will my taste be enough?" The little elf leaned forward, parting his lips invitingly and tasting the air between them with a rude flicker of tongue. On his breath lay the sweet scent of apples, so fresh that Legolas could almost taste the ripe juice, sliding down his dry throat and slaking his thirst. He swallowed.

"Or does it require something a little more substantial to satisfy a wood-elf?" At this, Legolas uttered a strange, startled whimper that obviously delighted the dark-haired elf. Melpomaen's eyes widened with amusement, as did his lazy smile, and he proceeded to press into Legolas the means by which he intended to fulfil his bold promise.

All the royal blood in Arda meant nothing in that moment; Legolas was completely in thrall to the salacious spirit slowly squirming in his lap.

"More…" the wood-elf whispered, bringing his hands to the little elf's waist and pulling them even closer together. "I require more."

Melpomaen moaned softly, a quiet sound soon muffled by the sudden meeting of their lips and tongues as all restraint was let loose. Tiny hands clutched Legolas' face, cupping his jaw and stroking his cheeks. Legolas gladly submitted to the kiss, that delicious taste of apples overwhelming his senses once again, and he shook with the knowledge that he would surrender far more than his lips this day.

With fumbling fingers he worked the laces of Melpomaen's modest grey robe, the cloth peeling away steadily as each knot came free, far too slowly for his liking. The skin beneath was flawless, a rosy flush gracing the fair flesh. He longed to taste it: to run his tongue over the chest, fasten his mouth onto one of the dark, stiff buds adorning the otherwise smooth backdrop.

Seemingly, Melpomaen had similar ideas, for he arched his back in a wild move that thrust his hips forward and presented the prince with an invitation he could not ignore. He nipped at the elegant throat, leaving a clear path of vivid red marks in his wake; a playful reprisal for the brand Melpomaen had placed upon him.

Through too many layers of offending fabric, their arousals strained to come together. The little elf gasped, his gentle rocking growing more forceful and more erratic. Legolas was starting to move a little frantically himself. His hands shook where they grasped Melpomaen's sides and he bit down on the small elf's shoulder, eliciting a loud squeak amongst those rapid gasps.

Legolas suddenly found himself falling backwards. Melpomaen had roughly pushed him onto his back, then followed through until he was lying atop him, with a slender leg on each side of his hips and a small hand on each shoulder.

Melpomaen grinned down at him triumphantly and resumed his licentious assault. Buttons were undone, belts unfastened and bracers flung aside in frenzied haste. Legolas moaned in frustration. He needed this! He needed it now! His was nearly faint with all the blood rushing through his body, his heartbeat ringing in his ears and head breathlessly dizzy.

Wait… ringing?

Legolas and Melpomaen froze in the same instant.

"The bell!" Melpomaen cried out, sitting up in shock. Legolas whimpered at the motion. "I'm late! Erestor is going to kill me!"

The little elf leapt to his feet and began frantically re-arranging his clothes, eyes wide with alarm. Legolas slowly sat, watching his glorious afternoon plans vanish in a chaotic rush of grey robes. Melpomaen dashed from one side of the garden to another, gathering bits of clothing and parchment and running his hands through the tangled mess his hair had become.

As the small elf made for the exit, though, he stopped and turned back, looking so desperately worried and apologetic that Legolas could not possibly condemn him.

"I'm so sorry," Melpomaen said. "I didn't mean… I just lost track of time… and I really do have to go…"

Legolas just smiled, shrugging his tunic back over his head. "I understand. It was nice meeting you, Melpomaen."

The little elf nodded, his face filled with regret. "Do you think… maybe we will meet again?"

"I'm certain of it," Legolas assured. They would definitely meet again, if he had any say in the matter. He had not had this much fun in a very long time.

Melpomaen offered him a relieved smile, nodded, and then took off at a run.

Legolas sighed. He sympathised. Really, he did. Erestor was a bit of a tyrant in the workplace; he wouldn't want to make him mad either!

It was a rather wistful wood-elf that dressed himself in the neglected garden that afternoon. He restored his appearance with great care, smoothing down his clothes until he was satisfied that they would not reveal any sign of his activities. When he combed his hair with his fingers, a single white flower fell into his hand. It was slightly crushed, the fragile petals bruised and exuding a gentle perfume.

He tucked it beneath his bracer.

This token he would keep for a while.

A reminder of the fickle nature of beauty.

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	3. Chapter 3: Precarious

**INSIDE, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: G**

**Fandom:** LOTR FPS

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary:** Legolas makes enquiries.

**Author's Notes: **If you're wondering, then yes, these chapters are short. This story is intended to be a series of 25 little ficlets. I'm attempting to complete the 25fluffyfics challenge! This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 12: Hurt.

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"More wine?"

Legolas accepted the offer with an easy smile. After a rather formal dinner, he had retired to one of the smaller drawing rooms at the twins' invitation. A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow into the room that matched the wine-induced warmth in his blood. It was very comfortable. The wood elf's usual reserve was fast slipping away.

Glorfindel had been plying him with drink all evening. Legolas didn't think there was an ulterior motive. Glorfindel simply liked his wine and, being the sociable creature that he was, he also liked to share. The golden-haired warrior happily topped up Legolas' glass before turning to the others, though he nearly managed to spill Elrohir's in his haste. The younger twin huffed in good-humoured indignation.

"Sot!" he accused, pushing Glorfindel away. "Sit yourself down before you do any real damage!"

Glorfindel grinned, not offended in the least. "Ai, you care more for your precious attire than you do me, Elrohir. You wound me, truly you do!"

"The day Elrohir manages to wound you I shall prance around Imladris wearing nothing but one of Naneth's tiaras." Elladan put in, silencing the bickering pair. Elrohir and Glorfindel both stared at Elladan in amused disbelief. No doubt their perverted little minds were more than capable of supplying the image Elladan had so graphically conjured.

Legolas snorted.

"I have come to the conclusion…" Legolas began with an affected air of sage grandeur, "…that the elves of Imladris are all completely, barking mad.

His companions did not deny it. Elrohir even went so far as to tilt his glass in acknowledgement. "That may be so, though surely you figured that out before now?"

"I had hoped it the phenomenon was confined to the three of you," Legolas clarified. "Earlier today, however, I met a very strange elf. He read me what I think was supposed to be poem.

The twins snickered.

"Ah, you met our little Mel," Glorfindel grinned. "I hope you didn't upset him."

"No, of course not. Why would I do that?"

"Your diplomacy is without peer, mellon-nin. We have all heard Mel's attempts at poetry and would not have faulted you for taking exception. How one person can so wholly butcher our beautiful language is beyond me."

"Saying that, however, we would not have been held responsible for the ensuing bloodshed had you managed to offend him," Elladan warned.

Legolas raised a sceptical brow. While Melpomaen had been quick and agile with the element of surprise on his side, he rather doubted the diminutive elf would have posed a threat in a real fight. He informed his slightly inebriated companions of this, to his mind, obvious detail.

Elrohir promptly choked on his mouthful of wine. "It's not Mel you need to worry about!" he rasped out between chuckles. "It's everyone else!"

"Everyone else?" Legolas echoed blankly. Clearly he was missing something here.

There were nods all round.

"I can guarantee you that should you so much as give that elf a splinter you will be sent back home to your Adar in tiny, mangled, little pieces. You can't begin to imagine the world of hurt that would be inflicted upon you," Elladan supplied helpfully.

Legolas was suddenly feeling a little nervous. Elladan's cheerful, matter-of-fact explanation was delivered with such utter certainty that was left in no doubt as to its veracity. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ah, and why is that, exactly?"

"Mel's Adar died in the war; his Naneth faded soon after," Glorfindel explained. "We've always looked out for him, ever since he was little. Well, littler, at any rate. You should have seen him when he was an elfling; I've never seen anything so adorably tiny in all my days! I was forever having to watch where I was going in case I stepped on him!"

"That was a long time ago. He's not exactly an elfling any more." Legolas pointed out, smothering a grin. The things he had done with the delectable little elf proved that, as did the marks on his chest and collarbone. Melpomaen may be small but he was definitely an adult! "I'm sure he can handle a few insults."

"Your funeral," Elrohir stated brightly, then offered the bottle as an afterthought. "Last drink for the condemned elf?"

Legolas fixed himself a large one. The brief summer fling he was hoping to embark upon had suddenly become a lot more precarious. Having a little bit of fun was one thing; upsetting the entire population of his host realm quite another.

He could hardly wait.

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	4. Chapter 4: Insults and Impropriety

**Inside, Pairing: Legolas, Melpomaen, Rating: PG**

**Title:** Insults and Impropriety

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Our naughty couple devise naughty plans.

**Author's Notes: **Erm… this one *definitely* counts as fluff. I think I got a little carried away. Hugs and puppies, anyone? This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 23: Reunion

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The following day proved to be just as summery as the one before. The sky was clear and the heat from the sun threatened to split the trees. Happily it did not, a fact for which Legolas was exceedingly grateful. The very thought turned his stomach.

The wood-elf stole his way towards the dilapidated garden, feeling inordinately pleased with himself for managing to find the inconspicuous path once again. It was an unkempt, narrow sort of passageway, with large shrubs and trees encroaching the borders. Legolas wasn't surprised that it was rarely travelled; most would ignore it in favour of the more inviting, almost immaculate, formal gardens that Imladris boasted.

He was beyond pleased to find the pretty and petite Melpomaen gracing the garden with his presence once more. He took a moment to drink in the sight. Melpomaen was reclined against the same stone pillar as he had when he had first seen him, though he was not writing today. Instead, the tip of that unfortunate quill had found its way into his mouth, where he nibbled on the ragged barbs with a thoughtful frown.

Legolas crept closer. It was ridiculously easy to sneak up on the little scribe.

"I told you we would meet again," he murmured softly into his ear.

Melpomaen squeaked and nearly fell from his perch, clutching a hand to his chest. "Ai! Must you startle me like that?"

"Yes. Yes, I must," he returned with what he knew was probably a very silly smile. He couldn't help it; the scribe was adorable. "I was hoping I'd find you here today."

"I come here most afternoons though today, I must confess, I'm not sure what to do with myself."

Legolas lowered his eyes suggestively, and when he spoke his voice was low and husky. "I am certain that, between the two of us, we could come up with something."

The invitation was obvious and Melpomaen was only too happy to take Legolas up on his offer. Their kiss bore no resemblance to the fast and frantic pace of the day prior. They came together slowly and gently, savouring the thrill of not quite familiar lips and tongues and hands and…

Legolas pulled back abruptly, drawing in deep, steadying breaths. This little Noldo was temptation incarnate!

Aforementioned temptation smiled broadly, dark eyes dancing. "Come, sit next to me."

Legolas was pleasantly surprised when a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into an equally slender chest. He hadn't been held this way since he was an elfling! He grinned; he probably looked ridiculous, a tall warrior like himself curled up in the embrace of this tiny scribe, but he really didn't care. Nobody was watching and, besides, Melpomaen just felt so _good_!

"I asked around about you," he mumbled into Melpomaen's shoulder.

Melpomaen chuckled. "What did you find out?"

"Bits and pieces. What happened to your family."

"Hmm… I take it you were given the 'if you so much as harm a hair on his head' speech?" Melpomaen scowled.

Legolas snickered. "Oh yes. I'm not to upset you on pain of death and… oh…"

"What is 'oh?'"

"I've just discovered you look cute when you're angry," Legolas smirked. Melpomaen's nose had wrinkled in disgust, his little hands balled into impotent fists. Legolas had to restrain himself from making the same sound one usually makes upon seeing downy ducklings and week-old puppies.

Of course, this only served to make Melpomaen angrier. "I do not!"

"I beg to differ!"

"I DO NOT!" Melpomaen growled, and though that was also rather adorable and just the littlest bit arousing, Legolas knew he had better stop teasing before he truly upset his companion.

"Fine!" Legolas agreed amiably. "You're not cute. You've got a face like a nest full of spider's eggs."

The look on Melpomaen's face was priceless. Melpomaen blinked, his lips twitched, and then he was consumed by a fit of giggling. "I can't believe you said that!"

Legolas grinned. "I don't think I've never met anyone who liked being insulted as much as you do."

"Perhaps that is because none else returns the favour in quite the way I do," Melpomaen countered, tilting his head to steal another kiss from the wood-elf's willing mouth. Legolas sighed with contentment as his brow was peppered with gentle kisses and he all but melted.

"Remind to me to offend you on a regular basis," he murmured.

Melpomaen hummed in agreement. "That's a given. You still have not told me your name, you realise."

"I think I'm disappointed. Have you not asked around about me?"

"As much as I could without raising a few eyebrows - which wasn't very much at all. There are only a couple of blondes in your party but I know you're not Silinde so…" Melpomaen's hand fluttered in the air. "You, my wild, woodland cousin, are a mystery."

Legolas frowned; of course it had not occurred to Melpomaen that he was, in fact, the Prince. Princes did not go around consorting with low-ranked scribes. It was highly inappropriate!

Things would change once the little elf knew who he was but it was inevitable, he supposed. Perhaps he could limit the damage somehow? He needed to think about it. "I will tell you tonight. That is, if I may see you again?"

"Can you be discreet?" Melpomaen's request startled the wood-elf and he looked up with a puzzled expression. The scribe shrugged apologetically. "You've seen how overprotective my friends can be. They have a bad habit of scaring away anyone who so much as looks in my direction."

Well, now, if that didn't make things interesting! Legolas felt a perverse glee bubbling up inside him. "And I have a father who is overly concerned with propriety. Believe me when I say discretion is in my best interests also."

Melpomaen looked thoughtful. "Wild one? Are we… are we about to attempt an ill-advised and hasty clandestine relationship of which neither of our respective peoples will approve?"

Legolas met Melpomaen's eyes squarely. "Yes, Melpomaen, I do believe we are."

Their smirks spoke volumes.

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	5. Chapter 5: Good Things, Small Packages

**Inside, Pairing: Legolas, Melpomaen, Rating: NC-17  
**

**Title:** Good Things Come in Small Packages

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** NC-17

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Legolas finally gets what he wanted, only to discover it's not quite what he expected.

**Author's Notes: **This is where that M rating starts to pay for itself. Who's up for some smut? Pure smut for the sake of smut in all it's smutty goodness! You've gotten this far; do I really need a slash warning here? **:p** This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 09: Blankets.

-----------------------------------

Melpomaen flitted anxiously around his room for what was probably the hundredth time that evening. Scrolls and half-read books had been placed upon their shelves, clothes folded away in their drawers and cushions plumped up. The place hadn't looked this tidy for… well… actually Melpomaen couldn't remember the last time it had looked this tidy.

Not that he was a slovenly elf by any means. It was just that, until now, he didn't have anyone he cared to impress. There were, of course, one or two attractive ellyn for whom he had harboured a well-hidden infatuation but they, like everyone else, tended to treat him as if he were a mere twenty years of age. Given this rather depressing state of affairs, Melpomaen reasoned he had more chance of discovering that he was Gil-galad's long lost lovechild than he ever had of luring one of those gorgeous specimens back to his room for a spot of egregiously erotic entertainment.

Only now, by some divine miracle he was sure, he had managed to attract what was quite possibly the most stunning elf he had ever met - barring Lord Glorfindel, of course. Melpomaen had always had a penchant for big blondes and there weren't many bigger or blonder than the ancient Vanyan.

But Glorfindel was utterly and unquestionably unattainable, whereas this mysterious woodland elf seemed perfectly eager. Melpomaen was beside himself with glee.

A quiet tapping at his window startled him out of his thoughts. A moment later a golden head appeared, bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Suildad!"

Melpomaen blinked. "What on Arda do you think are you doing?" he hissed urgently.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Is it safe?"

"Safe? You're the one dangling three stories up from… oh my… how are you even able to do that?"

"I'll take that as a yes!" The head disappeared. Melpomaen could only watch in stupefaction as the wood-elf, in a stunning display of graceful contortionism, poured through the tiny window feet first. How the well-built warrior had managed to fit that body through that opening was beyond him.

Legolas straightened up and brushed down his clothes. That was when he noticed the little elf gawping at him. "What? Am I too early?"

"No! No, you're right on time but…"

"But what?"

"What's wrong with using the door?" Melpomaen asked in a bewildered voice, waving his hand absently in its direction.

Legolas ducked his head with a sheepish grin. "The corridor was busy."

"Oh… well… when you put it that way…" Melpomaen resigned himself to the fact that his wood-elf seemed determined to make an unexpected entrance every time they met. Biting back a chuckle, he took hold of one of Legolas' hands and led him away from the window. "Would you like to come in?"

"Please," Legolas replied in a soft voice.

Melpomaen smiled and soon had his guest settled into the deep cushions of his settee. It was a modest affair, just large enough for two, though neither elf seemed overly concerned with maintaining their personal space. Knees bumped awkwardly, fingers entwined, gazes locked… Legolas offered Melpomaen a tentative smile and the little scribe returned it with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

"I'm glad you were able to come."

"It wasn't too difficult to get away. There are some advantages to rank; few dare to question my decisions," Legolas explained with a half-hearted shrug.

Melpomaen tilted his head and regarded his golden companion thoughtfully. He had a dignified bearing; handsome and physically commanding. It would be easy to follow him, instinctive even, but Melpomaen knew that was not what the woodland elf craved. It was not what he craved either.

"You will not find it so easy to get away from me," the little elf promised. "In this room, I make the decisions."

"Ah, is that so? And what have you decided, pray tell?"

"That you would look better without all that obstructive clothing."

Legolas blinked in surprise before his lips curled into a delighted smile. Truly, this little elf was bold! "Will you help me?" he asked breathlessly.

Melpomaen leaned forward to toy with one of the fastenings on his tunic. "Of course," he said with a naughty smirk. "They are rather stiff, as I recall."

"Not the only things," Legolas muttered darkly, much to Melpomaen's amusement.

Between quiet laughter and gentle kisses, they made quick work of the offensive garments. Melpomaen purred happily as ivory skin was finally revealed, radiant under golden candlelight. He ran his hand up the taut abdomen and onto the chest, where Legolas caught his wrist and brought it to his mouth.

"Mel…" he began quietly, only to be shushed by the gentle appliance of fingers.

"Talk later," the little elf murmured, bending to replace those fingers with his lips. Kissing his wood-elf had become his new favourite hobby. It was only fair, he reasoned, given that the blonde was the reason he no longer wrote poetry. He had to do something to pass the time, after all.

Luckily his companion seemed to be of the same opinion, if his impassioned reciprocation was anything to go by.

It wasn't long before Melpomaen found himself similarly divested of attire. Yet, though the golden elf was eager and thorough in his ministrations, he approached his task with reverent deference. Tender hands explored every measure of the small elf's slender frame even as blue eyes begged; the noble warrior reduced to a lowly supplicant.

Melpomaen could not have ignored those pleading eyes if he'd tried, which he most certainly did not. Tearing himself away from those plump lips, he slid his way down the perfectly moulded body; a glorious merging of sinewy strength and supple beauty laid bare for him to feast upon. And feast he did, with the voracious appetite of one too long denied, sampling every plane and cleft with an agile tongue that so arduously assuaged the wood-elf's unspoken plea.

To Melpomaen's eyes, the golden elf was beautiful in his passion. The way his back arched, head flung back and lips parted; the way those magnificent muscles tensed and trembled with want; the way those powerful hands gripped the edge of the cushions, knuckles white under the strain. That an elf of this stature and prowess would yield to him was a marvel; one that inflamed his senses and incited within him a need so great that it nearly overwhelmed him in its intensity.

Melpomaen sat back on his haunches abruptly, resting his head on Legolas' thigh and drawing deep breaths.

"Ai! Don't stop!"

"I want…"

"Yes!" Legolas hastily interrupted, reaching to drag the little elf up into his arms where he pulled their bodies close and strove to taste himself on the small elf's tongue. Melpomaen whimpered and wriggled his way out of his clutches, rolling sideways to fall to the floor in an ungainly heap. Half crawling, half running, he swiftly scrambled to his dresser. Bottles were overturned and hair-clips were sent skittering across the floor as he snatched at his prize.

Bright blue eyes glittered upon sight of the proffered vial, which Melpomaen clutched tightly in a triumphant fist. Legolas rose from his seat like the sun cresting the horizon, golden and glorious and inexorable as the dawn. Within moments he had crossed the space between them and dipped his hand into the aromatic lotion: orange and ginger, hot and heady.

"I have wanted you since that first day in the garden," Legolas murmured, trailing those slick fingers down Melpomaen's shuddering stomach. The little elf gasped and bucked into the large hand that wrapped around him in a firm, inescapable grip.

Melpomaen could barely stand it; his wild wood-elf was preparing him! How incredible was that? He lurched forward, driving his nails into the broad chest as he strove to keep upright on legs that shook and threatened to buckle.

"Bed! Now!" he growled, determined to finish what they could not the previous day.

With a delighted peal of laughter, Legolas ran to do as his little Noldo bade him. The bed was not difficult to find - Melpomaen's rank afforded him only the most basic of quarters – but Legolas was not complaining. As long as it was sturdy enough for the activities they were planning! He all but flung himself onto the blankets and sprawled out invitingly. Melpomaen landed on him an instant later and wasted no time in slipping between those muscular thighs.

It was hardly the smoothest of couplings; they were both too impatient for any attempt at finesse. It took a few blunted thrusts and a great deal of squirming before they happened to come together in just the right way. Melpomaen seized the moment wholeheartedly.

"Mine!" the dark-haired elf crowed, glowing with victory. Legolas would have replied had he any breath left with which to form a coherent sentence. It was not that he had any difficulty accommodating the small elf; Melpomaen was delightfully in proportion and Legolas was not untried, though he was perhaps a little inexperienced at being on this end of matters. Given that he rarely relinquished the dominant role to another, he was, in fact, somewhat grateful for Melpomaen's slender build.

Rather, it was Melpomaen's sheer exuberance that took him so completely by surprise. It was all he could do to hold on for dear life as the little Noldo set about his task with astonishing enthusiasm.

Dear Valar! He wouldn't last two heartbeats if this kept up! Legolas had never had a partner with quite so much energy!

Melpomaen, suffice to say, was enjoying himself immensely. Legolas braced himself, relishing this unexpected turn of events. He'd thought the little elf would be a gentle lover but, if anything, Melpomaen was unusually boisterous. Legolas would have a few well-earned scratches and bruises by this time tomorrow, he knew, smiling up at his lover with newfound appreciation. Melpomaen caught his eye and smiled back before leaning down to bite at his chest. Legolas yelped and laughed, catching his hands in the dark mass of hair.

Then Legolas heard the knock at the door.

His eyes flew open in alarm and he froze. His lover did not. Legolas wouldn't have thought it was possible but Melpomaen actually quickened his pace, causing him to gasp and clutch at the blankets, powerless to halt the rising pleasure building in him.

"Mel?" came the muffled query.

Melpomaen ignored it. Legolas bit his lip, struggling to keep still and silent as the little elf drove into him.

"Mel, I know you're in there!"

"WHAT?" the little elf snapped angrily. If looks could kill, the door would have melted from the ire in those dark eyes.

"What do you mean 'what?' Hurry up and let me in!"

"Now is not a good time, Saelbeth," Melpomaen ground out, his jaw hard with determination. Reaching between them, he roughly palmed the wood elf's magnificent erection. It was more than Legolas could bear. He tried to keep quiet, he really did, but the combination of physical stimulation and desperate secrecy seemed to heighten every sensation.

Melpomaen grabbed the edge of the blanket and stuffed it into the wood-elf's mouth.

_Oh, that beautiful, wise, clever little Noldo! _

Legolas arched wildly and screamed his release around the makeshift gag even as the door was rapped soundly once more.

"Mel, if you don't open this door right now I'll let myself in. You know I will!"

Melpomaen, in contrast, finished with a tiny, quiet whimper, eyes closed and breathing hard.

The knocking continued.

"ALRIGHT!" Melpomaen yelled, after a moment to catch his breath. "Fine! Just give me a moment!"

Legolas blinked. All he wanted was to enjoy a richly deserved cuddle. Melpomaen wasn't actually going to open that door, was he?

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	6. Chapter 6: Friends Like These

**Friends Like These, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG**

**Title:** Friends Like These

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Saelbeth! Gah!

**Author's Notes: ** This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 13: Nightmare.

-----------------------------------

"I'll get rid of him," Melpomaen whispered, gently extricating himself from the now thoroughly debauched wood-elf sharing his bed. He smiled reassuringly in response to his lover's uncertain expression. The warrior was clearly apprehensive.

"Don't worry!" he added, hastily grabbing a robe and running to answer the door. By the time he opened it he had almost managed to look halfway presentable.

Saelbeth was less than impressed at having been kept waiting. He was still dressed for work, in trim but utilitarian slate-grey robes that did little for his pale complexion and straw-coloured hair. "About time!" the young advisor huffed. "I've been knocking for ages!"

"I'm sorry, 'Beth, I'm just a bit busy right now. Can it wait until another time?"

"Busy with what?" Saelbeth demanded, eying Melpomaen's dishevelled state with obvious disapproval. "You look like a mess! And what is that smell?"

"Smell?" Melpomaen squeaked, nervously smoothing out his crumpled robe and trying not to squirm. Oh, how embarrassing! "What smell?"

"I don't know. It's nice; sort of fruity." Saelbeth leaned in for a good sniff, causing the little elf to stiffen in alarm and take two panicked steps backwards.

Unfortunately Saelbeth took that to be an invitation. He swept past the flustered scribe and into the room without so much as a by-your-leave, oblivious to Melpomaen's horror.

"I can explain!" Melpomaen spluttered, though how he was supposed to explain the naked wood-elf in his bed he had no idea. He scurried inside, wringing his hands nervously as he waited for the inevitable outcry

"Go on then." Saelbeth said, dropping onto Melpomaen's settee and making himself quite at home.

Melpomaen blinked. The incriminating clothing that had been littered around the settee had disappeared, as had the naked elf. He blinked again, stuttering out a feeble reply, "Oh, ah, it's this lotion I've been using. It… it gets the ink stains out of my hands…"

"Hmm. I like it. Is it any good for massage? My shoulders are awfully sore."

"I… I don't have much left…" Melpomaen replied faintly, glancing about the room. He was quite unable to comprehend how the very much corporeal wood-elf had managed to vanish into thin air. It was a relief, yes, but he was also saddened that his new lover had been forced to leave so abruptly. It would have been nice to have spent the whole night with him. He sighed and turned his attention back to his long time friend.

"Shame. I'm going to need a lot before this week is out," Saelbeth was saying, "I'm exhausted."

"That bad?"

"Worse. They keep arguing over the same things – borders, trade routes, who's responsible for what where. It's a nightmare! I don't know why they couldn't just bring an up-to-date map; ours must be a century out of date I swear, if it wasn't for the prince, these negotiations would be completely unbearable."

"Yes, I've heard he's rather accomplished."

Saelbeth snorted. "Yes, I suppose he is. That wasn't the attribute to which I was referring, however."

"Well… what were you talking about, then?"

"Ah, my sweet, naïve, little Mel, that elf has the finest backside I have ever laid eyes on. It's just so…" Saelbeth held up both hands and made suggestive squeezing motions in the air, smirking from ear to ear.

"'Beth!" Melpomaen gasped. "You can't say things like that about a prince! It's not proper!"

"Oh, hush, there's no harm in looking. Besides, if he's going to flaunt that gorgeous body by wearing a uniform, it would be rude not to look!"

Melpomaen froze. "Uniform?"

"Hmm, he's one of those unpretentious types. It makes a refreshing change from that ambassador from Mithlond. I still remember the ghastly robes he wore… what was his name…?"

Melpomaen didn't answer. His brain had ceased to process Saelbeth's words. In fact, it had pretty much ceased to process anything. All he could do was stare at his friend with mounting dread.

"Mel? Mel? Are you even listening to me?" Saelbeth waved his hands in front of the little elf's eyes, causing them to blink and snap back to the advisor's face. "Honestly, I thought you'd be interested considering all the questions you were asking yesterday!"

"The prince is blonde, isn't he?" Melpomaen asked in a small voice.

"Yes, everyone knows that! Why?"

"I… I think I met him."

"Yes, I know. Faelon told me."

"What?" Melpomaen cried, bewildered and slightly alarmed. That interfering old busybody! What else did he know?

"Oh, you know how it is. The prince told the twins, who told Erestor, who told Faelon, who told me. I have to give it to you, Mel. I would never have had the nerve to do something like that!"

Melpomaen sank onto his settee and groaned into his hands. He told the twins? The whole of Imladris must know by now! How could he ever show his face in public again?

"What's wrong?" Saelbeth frowned, placing his hand on Melpomaen's shoulder. "Why are you upset? I thought he said he liked it."

Melpomaen choked back a hysterical giggle. "He did? I mean, I should hope he did but… ai! I thought he was just one of the guards, 'Beth! I would never have done… _that…_ if I'd known!"

He turned wide, pleading eyes on his friend. Saelbeth stared back with a strange expression.

"You didn't know?" Saelbeth clarified. At Melpomaen's confirmation, the advisor dissolved into ear-splitting laughter. "Ai, Elbereth! I can't believe you didn't know who it was! Oh Mel, you really are too cute!"

By this time Saelbeth was gasping for breath. It was a good thing his eyes were tightly squeezed shut or he might have noticed the outrage that crossed the little elf's face.

Melpomaen scowled; he was not cute! Why did everyone always say that? "It's not funny!" he snapped. "I thought he liked me! It's… it's humiliating!"

Saelbeth willed his mirth into subsidence with a great deal of effort. "It's not that bad, Mel!"

"Easy for you to say."

"It was only a poem!"

"Only a poem?" Melpomaen repeated blankly, before sagging with relief. Thank the Valar! For one horrible moment, he thought they had been talking about something else!

Of course, now that he thought about it, he doubted Saelbeth would have been so calm had that been the case. It was also highly unlikely that the wood-elf would still have all his limbs attached, though a small and decidedly perverse part of him did wonder if royal blood would have afforded him any protection.

"I'm sure it was a very good poem," Saelbeth assured. "The prince liked it, didn't he?"

Melpomaen grunted noncommittally.

"Oh, don't be like that. I was only trying to help."

Melpomaen sighed. "I'm sorry 'Beth. I'm just a bit tired. Maybe you should come back when I'm better company."

"Hard day for you too?"

"You could say that."

Saelbeth nodded sympathetically. "Well, alright then. You do look like you need a good night's rest, to be honest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, 'Beth," Melpomaen said, standing to see his friend to the door.

He stood there for a while after Saelbeth left, his mind running in a thousand different directions. A prince! His wild, woodland warrior was a prince! And he had done… _that_… to him! A small noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper rose in his throat.

What had he done?


	7. Chapter 7: Pillow Talk

**Pillow Talk, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG-13**

**Title:** Pillow Talk

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: The prince talks. And he has some interesting things to say!

**Author's Notes: ** This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 24: writer's choice (truth)

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The hand that came to rest on Melpomaen's shoulder gave him the fright of his life. He whirled on the spot to find Legolas standing before him, wearing nothing but contrition on his rather spectacular features.

"I'm sorry," said Legolas softly. "I hadn't meant for you to find out like that."

Melpomaen could only stare in bewilderment. Here was a prince! Here was an elf of such standing that, by rights, the two of them should have never even crossed paths. Protocol demanded that he drop to his knees and beg forgiveness for his impertinence but, despite the potentially dire consequences he would bring upon himself, he could not. Prince or no prince, the elf that stood before him still bore the marks of his teeth and the rapidly drying evidence of their passion smeared across his chest. This was still the elf that had so willingly yielded to him this very night.

While Melpomaen did not have much experience with royalty, he was fairly certain they were not supposed to behave like this. The barriers put in place by rank and custom had already been breached. The rules had changed.

"I thought you had gone," he finally replied.

"There was no time. I had to hide."

"Oh… you heard, then?"

Legolas nodded. "You won't get in trouble, will you? I only told them about the poem to try and find out who you were."

"I doubt it, though I suspect everyone will have a good laugh at my expense." Melpomaen sighed and glanced away. "I suppose you will be going now."

"Only if you want me to," Legolas replied, reaching out to brush the curtain of dark hair away from Melpomaen's face. The little elf looked fiercely up at him, dark eyes full of disbelief.

"Does what I want matter?" Melpomaen asked, his voice low and bitter.

"It does to me."

Melpomaen snorted. "You could have any elf this side of the sea. Why would you want someone like me?"

"Because you wanted me!" Legolas cried out in frustration. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone who wants me for who I am and not what I am? Do you know what it's like to find out your partner is only with you because of status or, worse still, because they were too afraid to say no? Is it so much to ask that my lover treats me like a real person and not some extension of my father's crown?"

Legolas pulled away after his startling outburst, a faint pink gracing his cheeks. His gaze was steady, however, and his head held high. He had known everything would change once the little elf found out his identity. He should never have let it get this far but Melpomaen was so beautiful and had been so sincere in his desire. How could he have resisted? It was all he had ever wanted.

Two small hands snaked forward and grasped one of his. Melpomaen took a step closer, bringing their entwined hands between them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have judged you like that," the little elf said softly. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, collecting his thoughts. "It was just a bit of a shock. I thought you were… I don't know… a Guard Captain, maybe!"

Legolas cracked a lopsided smile. "Well, technically, I am."

"You know what I mean!" Melpomaen huffed. "How was I supposed to guess I was fraternising with the prince of Mir…"

"Greenwood," Legolas quickly interrupted, causing Melpomaen to blink and quirk a questioning eyebrow. The prince sighed and freed his hand from Melpomaen's grip, returning to his seat on the settee. "You Noldor call it Mirkwood. To us, it is still the Greenwood, and it will always be the Greenwood while we yet live amongst its boughs."

"I…I'm sorry, Legolas," Melpomaen stuttered, the name feeling strange on his tongue. "I didn't know. That's what everyone here calls it."

"That much is obvious. I spend most of the negotiations placing mental bets on how long it will take Galion to eviscerate Councillor Erestor." Legolas smirked darkly. "You, I can understand, but I would have expected better from Lord Elrond's senior advisors."

Melpomaen frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. Legolas grinned at the little elf's look of consternation; he really had the most expressive face.

"But why doesn't Ambassador Galion just explain? I'm sure Erestor will apologise."

There was a moment of silence as Legolas contemplated what he would tell his lover. Not telling him would be the sensible thing to do but there was nothing remotely sensible about this hurried and immodest affair they had embarked upon.

"Can you keep a secret, Melpomaen?" Legolas asked seriously.

"Why not?" Melpomaen ran a hand down his face and sighed. "I'll add it to my rapidly increasing collection."

Legolas beckoned the little elf to join him on the settee. Leaning forward, he murmured in Melpomaen's ear, "Galion is furious. He doesn't want an apology; he wants to make Erestor sweat. This part of the negotiations could've been over days ago if Galion was feeling even remotely co-operative."

Melpomaen gaped. On the one hand, he was horrified. On the other… well… Erestor could be rather demanding at times.

A very wicked part of Melpomaen was giggling hysterically.

"So all that business Saelbeth mentioned with the map?" he gasped, positively thrilled by the prospect of some scandalous gossip.

"Partly true. The horse carrying the map bolted after a run-in with some orcs but we could produce a new one easily enough. One of the guards is a skilled map-maker."

Melpomaen's internal giggling chose to express itself. The little elf snickered into his hands, eyes bright with mirth. "Oh! Oh, that is just too funny! How long are you going to make him stew?"

The little elf's laughter brought a smile to Legolas' face. Melpomaen was beautiful; there was no refuting that. He was adorable in his anger, exquisite in his passion, he was even lovely in his sorrow but when he laughed, he was simply beautiful. Legolas reached out to tuck a wayward lock of dark hair behind the little elf's ear and delighted in the slight tremor his touch induced.

"Ah, well, I don't think Galion thought that far ahead. If we produced a map now, your lot will know he's been holding out on you. Hardly very diplomatic. Once Galion calms down, he's going to find himself in a bit of a spot," the prince explained, even as his outstretched hand was grasped and subsequently subjected to a rigorous inspection by a smiling little Noldo.

"And this is the elf you're supposed to be learning diplomacy from?" Melpomaen asked, before wrapping his lips around a finger and gently suckling the tip. He looked expectantly at Legolas with dark eyes that seemed far too innocent considering the activity in which his mouth was currently engaged.

Legolas stared in stunned fascination.

"Ah… he's not normally so irrational. I just hope he clears it up soon. As much as it's amusing to watch, I also have to sit through hours of pointless, petty squabbling, all the while knowing how to fix it and not being able to."

Melpomaen nodded and removed the finger, pushing it aside to examine the next in line. Legolas felt his breath quicken in anticipation.

"Hmm, yes, it would look very bad if you just showed up with a map after all this time." The little elf grinned suddenly. "Maybe I could help?"

"How?" Legolas breathed, entirely distracted by the little kitten-licks Melpomaen began to bestow on his lucky, lucky index finger.

"Tell me more about this guard, the map-maker," Melpomaen slyly asked between licks.

The blonde warrior blinked. "Oh Mel, you aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

Melpomaen smirked. "If that look is anything to go by, I'd say you are."

Legolas could only laugh as his devious little Noldo pushed him back onto the cushions and proceeded to examine the rest of his body with the same painstaking diligence.

-----------------------------------


	8. Chapter 8: Perception Play

**Perception Play****, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: G**

**Title:** Perception Play

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**25fluffyfics Prompt Word:** 17. Jealousy

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Melpomaen meets Mindirith the Map-maker, much to Legolas' mirth.

**Author's Notes: **Today's chapter is brought to you by the letter M.

-----------------------------------

It was Elladan who spotted him first. The eldest twin was relaxing on the top bar of the fence that marked the perimeter of the training fields, taking a well-earned rest from the morning's sparring. In the middle of a sentence he suddenly stopped short and stared in the direction of the Last Homely House.

"What does he think he's doing?" he murmured, eyes wide with astonishment.

Everyone followed Elladan's gaze. Beside him, Legolas heard Elrohir's swift intake of breath and saw Glorfindel stiffen. The prince already knew what he would see upon turning but, even so, he had to bite his lip to stifle his laughter.

Melpomaen had outdone himself.

The little scribe was the very image of innocence. From the pristine white of his robes to his unadorned and free-flowing hair, he looked like an elf barely past the cusp of adulthood. What Legolas had not told Melpomaen was that his robe also bore a striking similarity to the traditional Greenwood attire worn to one's coming-of-age ceremony. His eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets when Melpomaen had shown it to him the night before and he was fairly certain that a good number of his guards were currently having a similar reaction.

Seemingly unaware of the effect he was having, Melpomaen trotted eagerly towards the training field with a large tray of refreshments.

He was besieged within seconds.

Legolas heard a faint whimper coming from Glorfindel's direction. The ancient warrior had his hand curled around the hilt of his sword. Just in case.

"Does he have any idea what he looks like?" Elrohir quietly wondered.

Legolas shrugged with expertly feigned indifference. "Looks fine to me. Isn't that the elf who read me that poem? Melpomaen, you said his name was?"

Distracted nods were his only reply. Legolas smothered a grin.

Melpomaen made his way through the crowd of warriors, happily chatting with one and all. It was an easy matter for the little scribe to lure the Greenwood guards into conversation. After spending so long with only each other to look at, this small, soft, childlike civilian was a breath of fresh air. They were falling over each other to introduce themselves, much to the displeasure of their resident Imladrian counterparts.

Legolas tensed with anticipation as Melpomaen finally came face to face with Mindirith. The map-maker was an excellent soldier, built like the side of a mountain but possessed of a surprisingly gentle and chivalrous disposition.

Poor thing. He didn't stand a chance.

The broad-shouldered beast that was Mindirith hastily stood to greet the smaller elf, as was proper. Right on cue Melpomaen let out a terrified squeak and stumbled backwards. The tray fell to the ground with a crash.

"Oh, oh! I'm so sorry! You startled me!" Legolas heard Melpomaen stutter. The little elf dropped to his knees to gather up the scattered cups, ruining his beautiful white robe in the dirt.

Mindirith was summarily punched on the arm by one of his peers. "Idiot!"

The guilt-stricken warrior quickly knelt to help. "No, it was my fault. Here, let me get this."

Reaching out for the fallen cups, their hands touched. Melpomaen froze and looked up at Mindirith with those huge, dark eyes. The warrior caught his breath. Legolas could see the lump in his throat bobbing from all the way across the field.

There was an abrupt silence as all eyes fixed on the drama unfolding in front of them.

A scowl twisted the prince's face. That was _his_ Noldo his subordinate was eying up as if he were water in the desert. Was that really necessary? And why were they still touching? If Mindirith didn't let go right now Legolas was going to assign him to latrine duty for the next ten years.

Suddenly Legolas realised what he was thinking. He frowned and shook off the irrational feeling, silently berating himself. The only reason he had helped form this plan was because he knew Mindirith would never try anything untoward; the map-maker was the epitome of good manners. If anything, he should feel sorry for Mindirith. Armed with the information Legolas had provided, Melpomaen was on the brink of exploiting the unfortunate guard for all he was worth.

Glorfindel, of course, had no way of knowing this. Legolas had to grasp his arm to stop him from making his way over.

"You'll only embarrass them," the prince warned.

"There are worse things than a little embarrassment," Glorfindel growled. "Who is that guard?"

"Mindirith? He's an honourable sort of elf. Really, there's no need to worry."

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes and considered his options. The Mirkwood warriors were under Prince Legolas' command. It would reflect very badly on him and, by extension, Imladris as a whole if he were to interfere now, just after the prince had told him it wasn't necessary. The negotiations were not proceeding very well as it was, without him adding fuel to the fire. He reluctantly acceded, though he did not yet release the hilt of his blade. Just in case.

Across the field, Mindirith gently helped the little elf to his feet and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

"Would you help me take this tray back to the kitchens?" Melpomaen shyly asked. "I think I'm still a little shaky."

"Of course," Mindirith swiftly replied. "It's the least I can do."

The moment the pair were out of earshot the rest of the guards were placing extremely inappropriate bets. Glorfindel looked just about ready to kill someone.

"Glorfindel, I just remembered that there's something Elladan and I have to do," Elrohir suddenly said.

"Elsewhere," Elladan added with a meaningful look.

"Yes, you do. Go. Now."

The twins fled in the direction of the kitchens. Legolas had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Negotiations aside, Imladris was certainly teaching him a lot about keeping a straight face.

-----------------------------------

Later that evening, Erestor was stopped in his study by an overly-excited sprite of a scribe. Melpomaen scampered up to Erestor's desk, grinning from ear to ear. The councillor was glad of the distraction; he had been working late into the night for the past two weeks and the long hours were starting to take their toll.

"Melpomaen," Erestor greeted affectionately. "What are you doing here? Did you forget something?"

"Oh no, Master Erestor!" Melpomaen chirruped. "I just wondered if you would mind please possibly taking a look at this and letting me know if it's any good?"

Erestor frowned and plucked the scroll from Melpomaen's fingertips. The stately councillor barely refrained from making a face. Another one of those awful poems, no doubt, but when Melpomaen looked up at you with those pleading eyes, it was very difficult to say no.

"Alright," he sighed, unrolling the parchment. "Let's see what…"

Erestor blinked. He stared. He blinked again. Upon the parchment was drawn a beautiful and rather precise-looking map of Mirkwood, today's date inked proudly in one corner. It wasn't terribly detailed but that was alright; the outline of the roads and borders were what Erestor needed most.

"Mel!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get this?"

"Oh, Minnie made it for me. Isn't it great?"

"Minnie? Who's Minnie?" Erestor asked, completely flabbergasted. How had a mere scribe managed to come up with the solution to a problem that had plagued the council chambers for the last fortnight? Did Melpomaen even know what this map meant to the negotiations?

"Mindirith. He's one of the guards from the Greenwood I met this morning. Anyway, it turns out that Minnie's Adar was a map-maker and had always wanted him to be a map-maker too, so he taught him all about it, even though Minnie eventually decided to become a guard instead. Then I remembered that Saelbeth told me that you really wanted a new map, so I asked Minnie if he would mind making one for me, and he did sort of owe me for ruining my pretty white robe, so he said it was no bother at all, but I threw in a nice bottle of Imladrian white for his trouble too – apparently he's always wanted to try some – and then we…"

"I see," Erestor hastily interrupted, his ears ringing from the barrage of information. Useful, yes, but the delivery was somewhat overwhelming. "Thank you, Melpomaen. It's exactly what I needed. Do you mind if I borrow it for a while?"

"No, of course not. I can always get another one. Minnie's really sweet like that." Melpomaen sighed dramatically before suddenly ducking his head and glancing away, nervously wringing his hands. "I… I mean…"

Erestor fought the urge to reach out and ruffle Melpomaen's hair. His little scribe had a crush! How completely adorable!

He would make sure Glorfindel knew about it, of course. Just in case.

-----------------------------------


	9. Chapter 9: Têteàtête

**Tête-à-tête****, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG-13**

**Title:** Tête-à-tête

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**25fluffyfics Prompt Word:** 11. Massage

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Legolas and Melpomaen enjoy some time together.

**Author's Notes:** I stopped at an evil point *grins* but I shall continue in the next chapter, though now I have to concentrate on AiA and it may be a while before an update.

-----------------------------------

"You!" Legolas accused as he burst through Melpomaen's open window, "You are, without a doubt, the most sinful creature I have ever met! Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you charming that brute of a guard and not be able do anything?"

The frustrated prince swiftly pounced on an unsuspecting Melpomaen who, once the identity of his amorous assailant became clear, responded with ringing laughter and eager arms. "Legolas! I didn't think you would be able to come tonight!"

"As if I could stay away after seeing you in that robe? I've been walking awkwardly all day!" Legolas announced, ruthlessly raking his hands the full length of Melpomaen's slender torso before grasping the slim hips and crushing them to him. Melpomaen threw back his head and gasped sharply.

"Ai! If you liked it that much, I'll have to see about getting it replaced! Now let go of me; I have a treat for you!"

"I've already got a treat," Legolas pointed out, leaning down to nuzzle the elegant slope of Melpomaen's throat. The little elf sighed happily and grasped a fistful of golden hair at the back of the prince's neck. Before Legolas could register his intent, Melpomaen had dragged him into a fierce kiss, demanding his compliance.

Legolas gave it.

He relaxed completely, allowing that quick, little tongue to plunder his mouth to the fullest. Melpomaen enjoyed several long, drawn-out raids of that generous heat before drawing back, eyes blazing.

Legolas mewed softly in disappointment.

"I have a treat for you," Melpomaen repeated, and was promptly released. If that kiss was anything to go by, Legolas most definitely wanted this treat. When Melpomaen ordered him to remove his shirt and sit on the bed, he could not move quickly enough.

He kept a close watch on the small elf as he waited impatiently for whatever it was Melpomaen had in mind. To his delight, the pretty little elf retrieved a jar from his dresser and then proceeded to carefully roll up the long sleeves of his robes to a point just above the elbows. All in all, the situation looked very promising!

Melpomaen graced him with a warm smile as he came to kneel on the bed behind him, sliding his thighs either side of the prince's hips. Had Legolas' interest not already been roused, it most certainly would have been now! Melpomaen swept the length of golden hair to one side and leaned forward to murmur softly into his ear, "Lord Glorfindel and the twins worked you hard this morning."

Hot breath tickled the back of the prince's neck, followed by two small thumbs that pressed firmly into the muscles either side of the base of his spine. In one swift, munificent motion, those divine digits drove the full length of the prince's back.

Legolas followed the path of those thumbs with an involuntary curving of his entire body, groaning deeply. Valar, but that felt amazing! Melpomaen seemed to know exactly where his touch was most needed and it wasn't long before the prince was producing all manner of small, unintelligible, happy noises.

"You… you were watching?"

"Of course! You were quite a sight! I shall have to pass that way more often." Melpomaen declared, utterly unashamed.

Legolas had to smile. He knew he was considered an attractive elf, and was equally aware of his skills in combat, but he appreciated a compliment as much as the next elf. At this moment in time, both body and ego were being lavishly pampered by a beautiful companion, and Legolas was rapidly descending into a bliss-induced daze. Life did not get much better than this!

"At least now you have an excuse," he mumbled. "Everyone is convinced you have a crush on Mindirith. Even I was almost fooled."

"I did lay it on a bit thick, didn't I?" Melpomaen giggled. "It was worth it. Not only did we get the map into Erestor's hands without any repercussions but now no one will even think of suspecting you. They'll be too busy watching Mindirith!"

"What will you if Mindirith decides he likes you?"

Melpomaen paused in his ministrations for the briefest of moments and, although Legolas could not see his face, he quickly deduced that the little elf hadn't even considered the possibility. It was only a brief hesitation, however, and Melpomaen quickly resumed tending to the well-oiled skin beneath his hands. "Well, then I'll just tell him that I'm looking for a more serious relationship than he can offer, since he'll be returning home soon."

"And what if he… Ah! Yes, just there!" Legolas encouraged with a heartfelt moan as Melpomaen found a knot in his shoulder. "Mmmm… what if he puts in for a transfer?"

"Oh, Legolas!" Melpomaen laughed. "He's not going to put in for a transfer to pursue an elf he's only just met!"

Legolas blinked. Was Melpomaen truly not aware of his appeal? The little Noldo was a delight to be around, an ardent and generous lover, and obviously unattached. Mindirith would be a fool not to consider his chances at courting the little scribe. Legolas knew he would, if he were in the guard's position.

Purely selfish reasons prevented him from voicing these thoughts. After all, if Melpomaen knew that Mindirith might be willing to take such a bold step, he might start to see the map-maker in a new light. Then where would Legolas be?

"Just be careful," he advised instead. "Mindirith is a good sort; I wouldn't want to see him hurt. Besides, I wagered a particularly fine dagger that he'd get no further than a chaste peck on the cheek and I hate to lose!"

Melpomaen blinked. "You put a bet on me?"

"Of course. It would have looked strange if I hadn't."

"Really? You were gambling so openly?"

Legolas was confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"We don't do that sort of thing here. It goes on in private, of course, between close friends, but never in public. It's seen as a little… hmmm… vulgar, I suppose."

Legolas twisted round to stare at the little elf in wide-eyed amazement. "Vulgar?" he repeated incredulously. "Ai, Melpomaen! Every time I think I'm starting to understand you Noldor, you throw something like this at me!"

"I take it you don't think of it the same way."

"We most certainly do not! Gambling isn't vulgar; it's a way of life! We trade, barter, bet, bicker and haggle over anything that isn't nailed down!" Legolas grinned. "I currently have four wagers ongoing, not including the one on you, though I will not be able to collect on two of them until I return home."

"Ai, the Greenwood sounds so very different! Imladris must seem like a strange place to you."

"Sometimes," Legolas agreed affably, "but it is a good kind of different. Imladris is more relaxed here in some ways and less so in others. We have our spiders and you have… well, you have Councillor Erestor."

Melpomaen burst out laughing. "That is an unmerited comparison, surely! No spider could possibly be so evil!"

"Precisely! If I had known the danger awaiting me I might never have plucked up the courage to leave the safety of my beloved Greenwood and, truly, that would have been terrible! To think, I might never have discovered what pleasure there is to be found in the hands of a scribe. You are surprisingly good at that, did you know?"

It was not a subtle hint, especially when Legolas glanced hopefully at the delicate hand resting on his shoulder and wriggled into a more accessible position. His wish was granted with pleased indulgence, for Melpomaen only too happy to manipulate this glorious creature into euphoric immobility while on his bed! It only took a few firm, sweeping circles between the shoulder blades and Legolas' head lolled forward of it's own accord, his whole body radiating contentment.

"Most scribes are passable masseurs," Melpomaen explained. "Writing all day can be hard on the shoulders so it's one of the first things we learn."

"I'll never look at a scribe the same way ever again. You are all far more talented than you're given credit for."

Melpomaen giggled and placed a teasing kiss on the nape of the prince's neck. "You should save your assessment of my talents until later, my wild one. I'm nowhere near finished with you yet."

"Mmm… Is that so?"

"That is undeniably so, though I may need your help in just a moment for I only have two hands and you are still much too tense."

There was a hint of mischief in the request that brought a smile to Legolas' face. He had begun to recognise that particular undertone, along with all that it promised. It seemed as though his body did too, for his senses vibrated with a new alertness and his muscles twitched reflexively beneath Melpomaen's palms.

"Then I shall do my utmost to assist," he replied in breathless anticipation.

"Excellent," Melpomaen purred. "In that case you should start by unfastening those laces."

Legolas glanced down at his remaining clothing and fingered his waistband. "These laces?"

"Those laces," Melpomaen confirmed. "Untie them, Legolas. Let me see you."

Needless to say, Legolas once again hastened to obey.


	10. Chapter 10: Admiration

**Admiration****, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: ****NC-17**

**Title:** **Admiration**

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Smut. And a puppy! (Not like that, you sick, sick people!)

**Author's Notes: ** This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 16. Puppy/kitten

-----------------------------------

It was senseless, he knew, to feel so self-conscious in the presence of a lover who had already partaken of all that his body had to offer. Yet, as he tugged urgently at the laces of his waistband and parted the flaps of material, Legolas could not help but feel a little uncertain.

Who wouldn't, when their lover hovered at their shoulder with the same predatory anticipation as Melpomaen currently exhibited? The little elf's expectant eyes were fixed upon the juncture of his parted legs with an intensity that rather reminded Legolas of the cats that the store-master bred to keep the mice in check.

He only hoped he would not suffer the same fate as did those unfortunate mice upon leaving the safety of their nests.

With purposeful deliberation, Legolas reached into his clothing and freed the rapidly swelling shaft. It jumped in his hand the moment it met the cool air, proudly proclaiming its readiness, and Legolas blushed lightly. At least one part of his anatomy had no issues with confidence!

Not that he had any reason to be anxious - he had never received any complaints before - but Melpomaen's opinion was important to him. Waiting for the little elf's verdict was somewhat nerve-wracking.

The throaty chuckle at his ear seemed to indicate that the little elf was pleased, at any rate. Melpomaen leant forward, moulding his chest against the prince's back, and practically purred his approval.

"Oh, Legolas, that is just the most beautiful thing," he murmured, his breath hot on the prince's neck. "It reminds me of a puppy!"

_A what? _Legolas blinked, his smile instantly evaporating. Previous lovers had compared him to animals before but it was usually a bit more complimentary than that! He had been told he could make a stallion jealous and that he surely rivalled the tusk of an oliphaunt. Exaggerations, obviously, but still better than a _puppy_!

The poor thing was deflating as quickly as his bruised ego!

"A puppy?" he repeated in a small, bewildered voice.

Melpomaen giggled and kissed his neck. "Yes! Just look at it: so willing and eager to please! I just want to pet it and I bet it would love nothing more than to let me!"

Ooh! Well, that was alright then! Legolas – all of him – visibly perked up at the explanation.

"If I'm a puppy, you're a kitten!" he countered playfully.

"And how do you work that out?"

"You're small and cute and… ouch! You have claws!"

Melpomaen smirked, his nails grazing a perfect set of parallel crimson grooves across the prince's left shoulder.

"Evil!" Legolas gasped, back arched and muscles tightening. "Evil kitten! Do that again!"

His request was obliged.

Melpomaen slowly criss-crossed the bared skin with faint red lines, drawing tiny whimpers and sharp intakes of breath from his lover. By the time he had finished with that sinewy canvas, Legolas was trembling; his breath coming in short pants and his skin damp from sweat as well as oil.

Gentle fingertips brushed over the sensitised skin, from the small of the back to the nape of his neck and then further, up to the lobes of his ears. Legolas shivered.

"Would you like to play a game?" Melpomaen inquired suggestively.

"Hmm… what kind of game?"

"Close your eyes," came the breathy reply, and Legolas complied. "Now imagine my hands are your hands. Follow my movements and imagine it is my hands upon you. Right now they are cradling your balls, rolling them gently and testing their weight. Do you feel it?"

"Yes," he whispered, cupping the heavy sac between his legs. This game had potential! "Yes!"

Melpomaen fondled the fleshy lobes for a moment longer before taking them between finger and thumb and stroking upwards, along the rims of those sensitive ears. A wave of pleasure rippled out from the touch, shot straight down the prince's spine and into his groin, where it pulsed the entire length of his cock and caused it to twitch once more. Legolas moaned his appreciation.

His ears were caressed slowly, leisurely, and Legolas' hand mirrored Melpomaen's unhurried pace.

"The skin is so soft here," Melpomaen told him softly, as though sharing a great secret, "And yet so firm beneath. Such luxurious texture… don't you agree?"

"Mmm…" Legolas closed his eyes, flexing his hips as he gradually brought that tumescent shaft to fullness, the skin of his hand suddenly pale against the now reddened flesh.

"And so sensitive," the little elf continued, skating his sharp nails behind the ridge and up towards the tips where he rubbed the very edges with light, quick flicks of his forefinger. Legolas thumbed the elevated raphe just behind the flared head and pumped rapidly, matching the rhythm of Melpomaen's fingertips flickering over the tips of his ears.

"Mel!" he gasped sharply, both as a warning and a heartfelt plea to continue. He was desperate to turn so that he could kiss his lover and yet he did not, for he could not forego the searing sensations emanating from Melpomaen's touch. It was incredible!

"Mel!" he cried out again, louder this time, as shudders began to overtake his body.

In response, the little elf took hold of those tender ear-tips and gave them a sudden pinch.

He couldn't breathe!

For one glorious, panic-stricken, moment, Legolas' chest constricted so tightly that he was physically unable to draw breath. His eyes flew open in alarm and his whole body jerked in shock…

…and then he was convulsing in Melpomaen's lap, gasping and crying out and erupting _everywhere_…

In a faraway corner of his mind, Legolas was aware of Melpomaen holding him and praising him in a soft murmur; telling him how beautiful he looked, how honoured he felt to witness such wild abandon. He latched onto the words as all other senses were overcome and the world seemed to fall way around him.

Afterwards, Legolas could only lay there, muscles quivering and breathing erratic. The sticky streams of his release grew cool on his chest before he was able to move once more and he looked up at his little lover with a watery smile.

Melpomaen positively beamed at him. "Oh, Legolas!" he gushed, "You are beyond magnificent!"

Legolas found himself blushing again. Not knowing quite what to say, he licked his dry lips and tried to sit up. Two small hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"No, don't move just yet. Lie there for a moment. Relax."

"I don't think I can get more relaxed than I am now," Legolas replied in a sleepy mumble.

"That's good! Now you will be able to pass judgement on my skills as a masseur!"

Legolas laughed weakly. "Please tell me you don't practise that with each other!"

"What? Oh, Valar, no! Eww!" Melpomaen joined in with his quiet laughter. "To be honest, I've not tried that before. I'm pleased you liked it!"

"Liked it?" Legolas exclaimed, "I can't even describe it! I can barely move!"

"Then don't. I'll move instead." So decided, the petite elf shimmied down the bed to lie alongside his woodland prince. Slender arms drew the sated blonde close and held him gently.

Their eyes met and they shared a smile that somehow conveyed more than if they had chosen to speak with words.

Legolas sighed in contentment. "I think I'm going to enjoy being your puppy."

-----------------------------------


	11. Chapter 11: The Price of a Smile

**The Price of a Smile****, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG**

**Title:** The Price of a Smile

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Summary**: Sometimes, in a relationship, sacrifices have to be made.

**Author's Notes: **Hmm.. I've gone a bit long-winded. Sorry! This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 3. Sport

-----------------------------------

There were times Melpomaen was glad he was a scribe. From the small, multi-lit window next to his workstation he could see out onto the thoroughfare that led from the stables and he would often, in winter, watch the bedraggled patrols returning home. On such days he felt grateful to be indoors, where it was dry and warm.

Today, however, was not one of those days. Today the sun was shining, as it had been doing all summer, and Melpomaen was studiously avoiding his window lest he become even more restless than he already was.

With a heartfelt sigh, he turned yet another sheet of the low grade parchment and attempted to focus on the curled script. Erestor had recently taken on a new apprentice, Hwarinole, and, as one of the more experienced scribes and verifiers, Melpomaen had been given the task of grounding her in the basics.

She wasn't terrible, by any means, although some of her arches were a little too rounded and her downward strokes not quite parallel. Even so, it would be a long time before Hwarinole would be allowed to use the coloured inks Erestor kept under lock and key. Those were far too valuable.

Melpomaen tried to be understanding; he remembered his own tedious, gruelling years as a trainee only too well. Unfortunately, training was no less mind-numbing as the trainer!

Valar, he was bored!

"What are you daydreaming about?" Melpomaen blinked and looked up in alarm. To his relief, it was only Saelbeth that stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and clearly amused. "Erestor would have your head if he saw you slacking off like that!"

Melpomaen grinned. "Lucky for me, he didn't! Is it lunch time already?"

At Saelbeth's nod, the little scribe practically jumped from his seat. They did not turn towards the dining hall, however, for today Saelbeth had invited him to the luncheon that had been prepared for the visiting dignitaries. It was a rare treat for Melpomaen. The food served at these functions often included delicacies that he could never have afforded on his salary. He knew from past experience that, as long as he did not draw unnecessary attention, his presence would be tolerated.

As soon as he had a plate in his hands he was filling it from the sumptuous feast laid out on the main table: seared venison and shallot parcels; chicory cups with blue cheese and honey; bread, baked with dried apricots and sunflower seeds, so fresh from the oven it was still warm; a generous dollop of fig and ginger chutney and, for dessert, coconut soufflé and candied limes.

Saelbeth shook his head and sighed. "It's a crime that you can eat so much and still be so tiny."

"Mmm!" Melpomaen vehemently agreed, swallowing a mouthful. "I know! So, who is everyone?"

The Greenwood elves mingling freely in the room were easy to spot; the style of their robes and the way they wore their hair was completely different to any Imladrian fashion. Saelbeth pointed out those he knew and told Melpomaen their names and positions.

"Ah! Perfect!" Saelbeth exclaimed as he spotted a familiar face and waved the stranger over. Of course, Melpomaen already knew it had to be Silinde, as he was the only blonde other than Legolas in the Greenwood party, but he kept silent and allowed Saelbeth to introduce him. "Silinde, this is Melpomaen, one of our scribes. Melpomaen, Silinde is my Mirkwood counterpart, one of Ambassador Galion's junior advisors."

Melpomaen winced at Saelbeth's unfortunate choice of words, drawing Silinde's curious gaze.

"A pleasure," Silinde murmured, executing a small, well-mannered bow.

"Oh, no, it's all mine, really," Melpomaen blurted out, embarrassed on Saelbeth's behalf, and then blushed, embarrassed even further by his own blunt rejoinder. "I mean… it's an honour to meet you, Silinde. I hope you are enjoying your stay with us so far."

Silinde flashed him a devastating smile. "More so with each passing day."

Goodness! He was a smooth one, wasn't he? If Melpomaen didn't already have a gorgeous, golden-haired wood-elf he would have dragged this one back to his room by his ankles! Before he had a chance to reply, however, Saelbeth stepped in and steered the conversation towards safer topics.

Safer and, lamentably, much more dreary topics. Melpomaen sighed and picked at his food, making sure to nod in all the right places as the pair prattled on. Really, what did he know about the socio-economic benefits of the various forms of irrigation system management? More to the point, what did he care? It was lunch time!

He kept half on ear on the conversation as his mind wandered on to more enjoyable subjects. He really should not complain for, though his days were slow and boring, his nights were flying by in a frenzied whirl. Melpomaen smiled faintly as images of his woodland lover were recalled.

Ah, but Legolas was such a passionate creature! The prince readily agreed to whatever games Melpomaen suggested and often took his participation that one step further - to both their pleasure. In him, the little scribe had found the perfect bed-partner; ardent yet affectionate, beautiful yet modest, powerful yet wholly passive. No matter how many times Melpomaen desired to lose himself in that marvellous body, his advances were always welcomed. Indeed, they were encouraged!

What act had he performed to be so rewarded? Melpomaen had no idea; he could only give thanks to Vairë for drawing Legolas to the gardens that day.

It was a shame they could not return but it was just too risky to meet outside. Melpomaen would have loved to show his wood-elf around Imladris, taking him to places not on any official tour. There was one particular spot near one of the waterfalls that he had always enjoyed. This time of year it would be overrun with bee balm, flowering sages and the delicate pink blooms of ragged robin…

Legolas would just love it, he knew!

"…would take at least another two days, I'd wager. Wouldn't you agree, Melpomaen?"

Melpomaen blinked and looked up to find Silinde regarding him with a look that seemed both curious and mildly hopeful. Frantically, he tried to recall what had just been said but… nothing! He had been completely lost in his thoughts!

"I… I'm sorry… what were you saying?"

"This part of the negotiations; I was remarking to Saelbeth that I'd wager it will take at least another two days."

Oh! No wonder Silinde was looking at him like that! If Legolas hadn't told him about his people's customs, he would have completely missed the oblique references. As he had, however… well, he wasn't going to disappoint! It would be undiplomatic!

"Would you really?" Melpomaen gave Silinde his most innocent smile. "Would you wager that brooch?"

Saelbeth was beyond horrified. "Mel, what are you doing?" he hissed.

"Taking me up on my offer, obviously," Silinde grinned, eyes agleam. Dumbstruck, Saelbeth could only watch, open-mouthed, as the pair began to negotiate the terms of their wager.

"This brooch was a gift from a dear friend and I would not part with it lightly," Silinde told the little elf.

"A pity. I've never seen one quite like it."

"Hmm… let's not discount the wager so quickly. I would be willing should you stake something of similar value."

"Then there is something you desire?"

Silinde smirked. "An interesting choice of words. I would settle for… a kiss."

Saelbeth was aghast. Diplomatic immunity required that he ensure the safety of his Mirkwood guest but propositioning his naïve, little friend was just too much! By all rights he should give Silinde a good thrashing!

"That is very presumptuous of you!" Saelbeth exclaimed.

"Ah, but I do not ask it for myself but for Mindirith. He is a good friend of mine," Silinde countered.

Melpomaen frowned. That wasn't true; Legolas had told him that the guards rarely interacted with the advisors. Unless… his eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh, you sneaky son of a warg! You have a bet on Mindirith and I, don't you?"

The entire room lapsed into silence. Melpomaen froze. Oh dear… he may have said that a little louder than he'd intended…

An ominous black shape suddenly loomed over his shoulder. Melpomaen turned and looked up.

"Master Erestor…"

"Melpomaen, I trust you have a good reason for being here?" Erestor's gaze might have seemed impassive to those who didn't know him but Melpomaen could see the cold anger lurking in the depths of those hard, black eyes. Oh, he was in so much trouble!

It was Silinde who answered, somewhat sheepishly. "Forgive us, Councillor Erestor. We were just having a little sport."

"Sport you say?" came another voice. Melpomaen bit back a strangled whimper as Ambassador Galion made his way over, accompanied by none other than Legolas. So much for not drawing attention!

The prince looked gorgeous, as usual, but it was decidedly surreal to see him looking so formal and distinguished. When they were alone, Melpomaen chose to simply ignore his lover's royal blood; it was the easiest way of dealing with it.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to do so given the current situation, and all four elves gave Legolas the obeisance his rank demanded. When Melpomaen looked back up from the deep bow, he saw genuine amusement glittering in Legolas' eyes.

"I was not aware that you played such games, Councillor Erestor," Galion continued, smiling benignly.

"We do not." Erestor frowned down at Melpomaen; the petite scribe looked the very definition of tiny before the authoritarian councillor towering over him. "Melpomaen, this luncheon is for our Mirkwood guests. Run along now."

Melpomaen cringed. Risking a glance at the Greenwood elves he saw the flicker of displeasure cross Legolas' features before he schooled his expression into the same serene mask as Erestor and Galion currently wore. The little elf frowned, brow furrowing. That simply would not do!

No one made his wood-elf unhappy! Not even Master Erestor!

"You shouldn't call it that!" The sharp rebuke fell from his lips before he could stop it. He flushed as all eyes fell on him. Galion and Silinde seemed pleasantly surprised but it was Legolas whose face lit up like the thousand-candle Midwinter Parade. Emboldened by his lover's obvious delight, Melpomaen soldiered on - punishment be damned! He took a deep breath and lifted his chin defiantly. "That's not its name, Master Erestor. You should call it the Greenwood."

"Quite right!" Galion exclaimed. "To us, it is has always been the Greenwood."

Melpomaen remembered what Legolas had told him. "And it will always be the Greenwood while there are elves yet living amongst its boughs!"

Galion was positively delighted. "Spoken like a true wood-elf! I like this one, Erestor! You must be very proud of him."

"Indeed," Erestor muttered, eyeing the little scribe with a calculating expression which, thankfully, Melpomaen didn't see.

Nor did the little scribe even see Silinde grinning from ear to ear or Galion's rather uncharacteristic beaming. He barely even noticed Saelbeth making hurried excuses and all but dragging him from the room, whereupon the young advisor set about interrogating his sanity – or apparent lack thereof.

Melpomaen didn't really see any of that: he only saw Legolas' grateful smile. Somehow, that made any potential punishment inconsequential.

If that was the price of a smile, so be it. No one made his wood-elf unhappy!

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	12. Chapter 12: Lessons

**Lessons, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG**

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Prompt:** This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt 10. Bath

**Word Count:** 1074

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer: **Tolkein's. Not mine.

**Summary**: Legolas learns a lesson.

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It was an old elm, taller than the building next to which it stood, that Legolas used to reach the roof. He had become rather fond of this particular tree, with its dense, lush foliage to obscure his path and its numerous branches making it an easy climb at that. It was, in fact, so perfectly placed that Legolas idly wondered if the gardener that had once tended this tree those many years ago had been inspired by a similar need.

He hastened along the rooftop to Melpomaen's window and listened for the sound of voices but the room was quiet. The window was open too; a clear message. Legolas grinned and sung down, slipping through the opening.

There Melpomaen knelt in the middle of the floor, his hair pulled back into a single braid and his arms elbow-deep in a large tub of water. It was not quite as large as a bathtub but it dominated the small room. More importantly, Legolas was pleased to notice, he was currently wearing nothing more than a pair of leggings, leaving torso and feet bare. Melpomaen had such tiny feet.

The little elf turned to look up at him, breaking into a delighted smile. Legolas was never left in any doubt that he was welcome and this time was no exception. He shook his hands from the water and dried them quickly on a towel as he rose to greet his visitor in a manner to which Legolas was quickly becoming enamoured.

These were greetings involving rather demonstrative cuddling, gentle kisses and a great deal of basking in each other's presence. It was a highly novel experience for the prince and one which he found deeply satisfying. It was good to be wanted.

He tugged Melpomaen gently towards the bed; an unconditional invitation that drew a quiet, appreciative hum from Melpomaen's occupied mouth before the small elf pulled back and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Legolas, I can't. I'm busy tonight."

The softly spoken apology brought Legolas to a crestfallen halt. He blinked, more surprised than anything else, though he was also aware of the sharp sting of rejection that he quickly tried to quell. He had been monopolising Melpomaen these last few weeks and it was easy to forget that the little elf had a life outside their strange relationship.

"It can't wait?"

Melpomaen shook his head. "If I don't do this tonight, it will be too late." His disappointment must have showed, for Melpomaen squeezed his hand reassuringly and went on to explain, "Master Erestor has ordered me to attend the formal dinner in two days time, as a consequence of my rash actions during today's luncheon."

"Oh." Legolas tilted his head in thought. "That isn't so bad, surely? I would have thought it to be a reward, rather than a punishment."

"Yes, normally it would be but… well… it's on my begetting day. I had rather hoped to spend the evening with you."

"Your begetting day? Is it really? You should have said! Now I only have two days to find you a gift!"

That brought a small smile to Melpomaen's downcast features. The little elf batted him lightly in the stomach. "Silly wood elf!" he admonished. "I don't want a gift; I wanted you!"

"You have me!" Legolas brashly declared. "Now what is so important that it has to be done tonight? Maybe I can help?"

Melpomaen gestured towards the tub of water in the middle of the floor and made a face. "Laundry. I can't very well show up to a formal dinner in work clothes, can I?"

Legolas blinked. "Well, why not have the lavenders take care of it?"

There was a moment of silence as Melpomaen stared at his golden prince, a peculiar expression twisting his face and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. It took a while for Legolas to realise that his suggestion may not have been all that tactful but by then it was too late. His words had formed a distance between them that was more than physical.

There was no anger or bitterness in Melpomaen's frown, however, only a kind of resigned frustration.

"The lavenders will have closed for today, Legolas," he said, turning and walking back to the tub. "You're welcome to stay for a chat, if you'd like, but I really must get this done to give it time to dry."

Legolas quickly considered his options. He was something of a tactician, after all, both in the field and the council chambers, and he knew that sometimes the easiest solution was not the best solution.

It would be very easy to offer Melpomaen the money he would need to pay the lavenders. It would mean nothing to him – he would not even notice it – but he could not do that to Melpomaen. The scribe took a lot of pride in looking after his 'silly wood elf' and Legolas did not think said pride would appreciate his offer.

He sighed. Silly wood elf, indeed! There was nothing for it. He would just have to swallow his own pride as well!

"I've never laundered anything before," Legolas admitted, gesticulating at the tub. "Rinsed a few tunics in rivers, out on patrol, but never like this."

"No, I don't suppose you would have. It's not as hard as it looks. Boring, though."

"Will you show me how?" For some reason, he sounded almost hopeful. Not that he wanted to do laundry, by any means, but he wanted to do laundry _with Melpomaen_. And how strange was that?

Melpomaen sat up on the heels, one fine auburn brow lifted in disbelief. "You want me to teach you how to wash clothes?"

Legolas shrugged, half embarrassed.

A sudden grin appeared on Melpomaen's face. "Well, take your top off then. You'll get soaked, trust me."

Just like that, the tension in the room vanished. Legolas stripped to his bare chest, smiling like an idiot, and took his place on the floor by the tub, where Melpomaen began tutoring him on the various techniques of scrubbing and wringing, and soaps and fabrics.

He listened, of course. The little scribe was an animated teacher, if something of a taskmaster. Legolas had his knuckles rapped several times in the course of his 'lesson.'

Not that he would have had it any other way. After all, everyone knows that good students are rewarded.

Legolas intended to be a very good student.

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	13. Chapter 13: The Talk of Imladris

**The Talk of Imladris, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: G**

**Characters**: Legolas/Melpomaen

**Prompt**: This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt # 8. Dinner

**Word Count**: 1593

**Rating**: G

**Disclaimer**: Tolkein's. Not mine.

**Summary**: Melpomaen gets a surprise.

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"Over here!" Saelbeth gestured, half-standing, to the small figure that had hesitated at the entrance of the great hall. He was quickly spotted. Melpomaen flashed him a grateful smile as he hurried to the empty seat that Saelbeth presented. Not that there was any choice in the matter; there was a strict seating plan to follow!

Their particular table was positioned about two-thirds the distance from the head table to the door. Melpomaen was surprised to find he'd been granted a spot alongside Saelbeth and Silinde, for he'd expected to be seated at one of the lower tables, but he reasoned that this might be Erestor's way of softening his punishment. At least he would not be amongst strangers on his begetting day.

Friend that he was, Saelbeth did not allow the scribe to wallow in self-pity. Instead he launched into a lively account of his day, liberally interspersed with amusing if highly exaggerated anecdotes, until he had coaxed and cajoled a smile to appear. Only then did Saelbeth broach the topic of Melpomaen's indiscretion two days prior.

"You're the talk of Imladris, you realise?"

Melpomaen sighed and his shoulders drooped. "Ai, I know. I should know better than to let my big mouth get the better of me!"

"I'd think you would be pleased." Melpomaen looked at Saelbeth askance and the advisor smirked, only too happy to clarify. "You've always wanted to be bigger."

An affronted glare was his reward. The scowl Melpomaen granted him was deadly. It was also adorable, so Saelbeth was not exactly quivering in his boots.

"It was much appreciated," Silinde interjected, obvious approval in the warmth suffusing his honey-rich tones. The little scribe blinked up at Silinde in surprise, not having considered the effects of his rash act on anyone other than Legolas.

Then, for no discernable reason, Silinde broke into an even bigger smile and grinned over the little scribe's head at Saelbeth. Melpomaen threw a puzzled look between the two grinning advisors which, to his utter incomprehension, only caused them to grin harder.

"That reminds me!" Silinde exclaimed. "Those negotiations were over far quicker than I anticipated, Melpomaen, and I believe I owe you a forfeit."

Nothing distracts quite like a bright, shiny object. Apparently scribes were no exception to this rule and Melpomaen's brown eyes took on a gleam to rival that of the finely wrought brooch that Silinde currently held in his outstretched palm. He had won the wager!

Not that he could have possibly lost, not with Legolas on his side. The woodland prince had reacted in a most pleasing fashion upon hearing the terms of the wager, telling Melpomaen in no uncertain terms that he would personally ensure his success. Melpomaen knew he would. After all, if this wager was lost, he would have been forced to kiss Mindirith and then Legolas would have lost a wager of his own!

All of this plotting and machinating was delightfully entertaining. Melpomaen was beginning to see the appeal of these convoluted games.

Wood elves were so much fun!

"Greenwood elves are not what I expected," he said to Silinde as he took the brooch and pinned it to his chest.

"Just what did you expect?"

"Well, you come across as being so serious. Before I met you I would never have imagined you could be so… so frivolous!"

Silinde's grin softened into a thoughtful half-smile. He hesitated for a moment but, when he spoke, it was not with the light-hearted cheer that Melpomaen had come to expect.

"It may seem frivolous to you but, to us, it's vital. There is so much darkness in the Greenwood. We have to work hard to bring whatever light can be found into our lives. And how can we expect to fight the darkness on our lands if we do not fight it in our hearts?"

There was little Saelbeth or Melpomaen could say on that sobering thought. The growing darkness was an uncomfortable topic, rarely acknowledged in daily conversation. Melpomaen suspected it was easier to avoid it in Imladris, secluded and protected as they were. The Greenwood had no such luxury.

It was perhaps fortunate, then, that the servants chose that moment to appear with platters piled high. The conversation was swiftly directed to more trivial matters, though Melpomaen could not persuade his thoughts to follow suit.

Silinde's words had hit the little scribe like a blow to the stomach. If the Greenwood had no such luxury then neither had Legolas, for it was to him and his father that the Greenwood looked for protection. How had he not seen this before? Yes, he had known on some intellectual level, but he had never really stopped to think of the implications.

Melpomaen knew that Legolas would do anything in his power to provide that protection. The wood elf tried hard to live up to expectations; not just those imposed on him by rank and duty but also those of his people.

The head table was positioned to be visible to the entire hall and Melpomaen could clearly see the woodland prince seated between Lord Elrond and Councillor Erestor. He was everything one would expect in a prince: handsome, decorous and dignified. He spoke softly but with an indisputable authority that made all pause to heed his words; words that were delivered with a confidence of a sharp mind coupled with a frightening level of learning. Then there was his physical prowess.

There was nothing common about that!

Yet Melpomaen knew that this particular prince excelled purely out of necessity; it was certainly not a role he would have chosen for himself! The wood elf currently discussing politics with Lord Elrond would have been far happier pilfering whatever could be found in the kitchens for a midnight snack in the garden!

Melpomaen grinned suddenly. Perhaps he could make that happen? Not the gardens, of course, but perhaps they could climb up to the roof and enjoy a night under the stars. He might not be able to do anything about the darkness in the Greenwood but he could make sure that one particular heart remained free from its taint!

"I'm glad to see you're in a better mood." Melpomaen blinked, brought back to reality by Sealbeth's scrutiny. "You are forever daydreaming lately. Pay attention, Mel! They're about to start the speeches!"

Oh joy. Speeches.

Erestor stood first. The councillor slid his gaze over the room, eyes black and shining like a raven's, and all voices fell silent. It was an impressive skill; Melpomaen had to admit he was slightly jealous.

"There are few aspects of my role as rewarding as this," Erestor began. "To welcome our woodland kin into our home, to renew and strengthen past friendships, is a great honour to both myself and to Imladris. It is also an opportunity. So rarely do we have the chance to gather in these times that we must remember to use these opportunities to learn from one another and take, from this knowledge, that which we need to grow and develop. Recently, I received a rather rude reminder of this fact."

The councillor paused and his calculating gaze moved to the lower tables. Melpomaen froze in his seat.

"Ah, there you are, Melpomaen. If you would please stand?"

An alarmed whimper threatened to escape. This was his punishment? To be publicly humiliated? This was beyond cruel! The small scribe stood slowly, trying not to cringe as a hundred pairs of eyes swung towards him, and then he waited with hands clenched tightly at his sides.

From the edges of the room there was a shuffling and a whisper that grew into a murmur. Erestor's dark eyes glinted with ill-concealed humour.

"It seems that not everyone can see you, Melpomaen. Would you stand on your seat for the benefit of those further away?"

Oh, how mortifying! Melpomaen closed his eyes and took a deep breath before doing as he was bade. He tried not to look at the crowd of curious faces but, even more so, he could not look at Legolas. How would the wood-elf ever respect him after a dressing down like this?

"That's much better. Now, as I was saying, I was recently brought to task by young Melpomaen here on a somewhat sensitive diplomatic issue, in a brusque and improperly bold manner that was quite uncharacteristic of the modest scribe we know him to be. Yet that was not the first instance. In the past few weeks, Melpomaen has shown an initiative and an ambition of which I have always known him to be capable. Indeed, I have long awaited it!"

Melpomaen blinked. That didn't sound like a reprimand. Wait… why was Saelbeth grinning? What on Arda was Erestor doing?

"Melpomaen has, by his actions as well as his words, proven that he can take the opportunities presented to him and that he can use them to better himself. He has shown, also, that he is not afraid to challenge me in his convictions. These are skills highly prized in an advisor."

Excited whispers sprang up throughout the room. Melpomaen stared, breath caught on a sharp inhalation that stuck in his throat and caused his eyes to widen in shock.

"Let it be known, then," Erestor continued, the sparkle in his eyes now completely negating the affect of his ever-stern countenance, "that Melpomaen may now take the rank of junior advisor, with all rights, responsibilities and privileges associated with that rank. Should he so accept, of course."

Under his feet, Melpomaen felt the chair wobble.

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	14. Chapter 14: Twisting Traditions

**Twisting Traditions****, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG**

**Characters**: Legolas/Melpomaen

**Prompt**: This chapter fulfils the 25fluffyfics prompt # 15. Birthday

**Word Count**: 1279

**Rating**: PG

**Disclaimer**: Tolkein's. Not mine.

**Summary**: Legolas plays a game of his own.

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The noise in the hall was near-deafening. As one the gathered guests rose from their seats and began applauding, while the more rowdy of them stamped their feet and hammered the tabletops with their fists.

Amidst the shouted congratulations were murmured more personal ones. Saelbeth caught Melpomaen as the chair teetered and the stunned scribe began to topple, laughing when the little elf came out of his stunned stupor to find himself cradled in his friend's arms. The look on Melpomaen's face at that moment would entertain Legolas for years to come.

The prince had been waiting for this announcement ever since Councillor Erestor had first mentioned it during a meeting. Keeping it secret from Melpomaen had been extremely difficult, especially when the little elf had been so dejected about tonight's dinner, but now that secrecy had been rewarded.

He, and several others around him, laughed heartily when Melpomaen finally gathered his scattered wits and began to scold Saelbeth for catching him. Melpomaen did not like to be treated like an elfling.

The effect of this was rather diminished, however, considering that it was Saelbeth and Silinde that were currently defending him from the overly enthusiastic crowd. Several times they intercepted a well-meaning clap to the shoulder that, while merely a friendly gesture to some, would easily have sent the daintily-built Melpomaen staggering forward several steps.

Of course, Melpomaen saw nothing of this. He was too busy coming to terms with it all.

Legolas couldn't blame him for being shocked; promotions were hardly a common occurrence. The last he recalled in the Greenwood was the advancement of an apprentice potter to journeyman status, and that had been a good eighteen years ago. If Imladris was anything like the Greenwood, this party would go on all night!

Beside him, Erestor had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd. "That seemed to have the desired effect, wouldn't you agree?"

"He looks a little overwhelmed," Legolas responded, smiling broadly.

He was pleased to have an opportunity to watch his little lover in a public setting like this. If his eyes were drawn to the petite and, in his opinion, exceptionally beautiful Melpomaen, then so were all others in the room. Melpomaen was laughing now, bright-eyed and blushing from all the attention. The little elf spared a quick glance to the head table and caught the prince's eye for the briefest of moments, long enough for Legolas to raise his glass to him, before the crowd swept away once more.

"That is to be expected," Erestor said, "Last year I gave him a bottle of wine. A very fine wine, if I say so myself, but somehow I think this is better."

"Last year?"

"Indeed! Today is Melpomaen's begetting day, or I would have offered him the role sooner. It was just too good a chance a miss!"

"His begetting day!" Legolas allowed himself a wolfish smirk. He already knew, of course. Unfortunately he was not supposed to know and he had, therefore, thoroughly intended on making sure someone let that titbit of information slip before the night was over. Erestor had made his task almost too easy. "Excuse me, Councillor, I must go and extend my felicitations."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted! Oh, but please don't scare the little lamb too much."

Legolas nearly snorted wine through his nose. _Little lamb?_ Oh, sweet lady of mercy! Melpomaen would likely reach for the nearest sharp implement if he ever heard anyone call him that to his face!

It was with that sobering thought in mind that he made his way to the crowd gathered around his little scribe. Perhaps he should call him his little advisor now, though it made no difference. To Legolas he would always be the self-professed poet in the tumbleweed garden.

The crowd parted once they realised who it was that pushed his way through, and it was one of those rare occasions that Legolas was utterly unashamed to abuse his rank.

It took a few moments for his presence to be noted. Silinde, predictably, stiffened at the sight of him and elbowed Saelbeth in the gut to grab his attention. The clamour of voices faded away into nothingness.

Then Melpomaen turned, blinked at the broad chest in front of him, rose his line of sight to Legolas' face, and blinked again in surprise.

"Congratulations, Melpomaen," Legolas said softly, heartfelt.

Melpomaen, to his credit, suppressed the triumphant, excited, undoubtedly glorious and unquestionably captivating smile that had threatened to split his face at the sight of the woodland prince standing before him. Legolas did not need to see that particular smile on those lips to know it was there; he could see it in those eyes.

His little poet was incredibly happy. It made Legolas want to hug him!

"Thank you, Your Highness," Melpomaen answered, a slight tremor in his voice that Legolas knew to be humour even if everyone else thought it was nerves.

"I hear that today is your begetting day. Is that true?"

"Yes, Your Highness, it is."

Suddenly Silinde gasped in alarm and the smirk on Legolas' face grew to unhealthy proportions. He flashed Silinde a sharp look, a glance that clearly warned him not to interfere, and the advisor retreated into fretful compliance.

"In that case, please allow me to extend my personal well-wishes."

"Oh, of cou…!"

Legolas did not wait for Melpomaen to finish his sentence. One hand darted forward and caught the little poet by the back of the neck. Before Melpomaen could even gasp, however, the prince had leant forward and bestowed upon him a gentle kiss.

It was a miracle Legolas didn't collapse into hysterical laughter when he heard the commotion this single act wrought. From Silinde's whimper to Saelbeth's affronted choking, to the inarticulate cry of outrage that could only have come from Glorfindel, the entire room was in an uproar.

A firm grasp on his arm pulled him away. A shame; Legolas was fond of the taste of apples.

"My Prince!" Ambassador Galion hissed urgently, his hand still firmly clutching the prince's bicep, "That tradition is not practised in Imladris!"

Legolas, for all his internal smugness, feigned astonishment like a seasoned actor. "They don't?" he repeated, with just the right mixture of distress and bewilderment. "My sincerest apologies, Melpomaen, I was not aware…"

Melpomaen was staring at him incredulously, eyes wide with shock and his fingertips hovering over the recently claimed lips. It was all Legolas could do not to kiss him again. He was so tempting, standing there with his hair mussed and his lips… his lips…

Oh Valar, Legolas wanted those lips!

A hint of a giggle escaped the subject of his desire, and Melpomaen took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Saelbeth moved forward and placed a comforting arm around the slight frame, obviously thinking his little friend was distressed.

Nothing could be further from the truth. With great effort, Melpomaen quelled his mirth and forced an awed, wide-eyed expression onto his face.

"That… that's alright, Your Highness," he stammered in a barely audible whisper. "I'm flattered… really!"

Legolas grinned. "There, you see, Galion? Everything is fine!"

And everything was fine. Everything was better than fine, in fact.

Oh, so what if Glorfindel was ready to rip his head from his shoulders and Saelbeth looked like he was preparing to stab him while he slept? The look in Melpomaen's eyes was far more interesting. That look promised vengeance of a different sort. That look sent a thrill through his veins. That look spoke of sleepless nights and the best sort of nightmares.

Legolas had to avert his gaze before he did something rash.

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	15. Chapter 15: Squander not the Sun

**Squander not the Sun****, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: G**

**Title:** Squander not the Sun

**Fandom:** LOTR FPS

**Characters:** Legolas/Melpomaen

**Word Count:** 949

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** Tolkein's, not mine.

**Summary**: Legolas takes a moment to reflect.

**Author's Notes: **Prompt 21, with which the author takes an analogy too far and somehow manages to write an extremely short chapter that is far too long.

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Loath though he was to leave Melpomaen's side, Legolas knew he could not afford his reluctance to show, and he was forced to allow Galion to steer him away from the crowd towards a quiet balcony.

Poor Galion. The ambassador was terribly contrite about the entire affair, apologising profusely for his lack of foresight in not informing Legolas of the local custom - or lack thereof. Imladris did not have a monarchy and, therefore, there was no tradition requiring the involvement of the highest ranking royal present. Normally it was his father that had the honour but this was by no means the first time Legolas had enjoyed this particular duty. Though it was, by far, the first time he had desired it quite this much.

It was a distracted prince dismissed Galion with a vague wave of his hand. The drone of words stuttered to a halt. He waited for the whisper of air as the ambassador turned to leave. Then silence.

Finally he could think.

Legolas found that he did not miss the Greenwood with the same acute longing as he once had. When he looked into his heart he found, not images of his beloved forest, but thoughts of a certain dark-haired, smiling Noldo.

This tiny, low-ranked nobody, who was not even a wood-elf, had rapidly attained great significance in his life. With Melpomaen he felt cherished, like an irreplaceable treasure that needed the greatest of care. When they were together, the troubles of the Greenwood seemed to fade, and Legolas spent all his days looking forward to the time they could next meet.

In the wild, heady rush of reckless passion, he hadn't noticed the change until it was too late. Now it was obvious.

This relationship was no longer a simple matter of slaking his lust with a beautiful and willing partner; the line between the desires of his body and those of his heart had become blurred.

Common sense, it seemed, had been cast to the wind.

Legolas sighed and raised his gaze to the red and orange-tinted tree line. The window behind him caught the glow and bounced it back onto his face, illuminating the wistful gleam in his eyes.

Such beauty, yet it only served to make him all the more aware of Melpomaen's absence. He would dearly love to see his little lover in this light, his dark hair turning a deep red in the dimming glow from the sun's last rays and his dark eyes reflecting the first stars that dared to peek through the gloaming.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

The deep, soothing timbre of the unexpected voice did not so much interrupt his thoughts as it did mirror them. Legolas inclined his head towards the doors but did not turn. The setting sun was too short-lived an event to squander. "Aye, it is…"

"Tell me, then, why are you gazing upon it as though it were the last sunset you will ever see?"

"In the Greenwood, the canopy is too dense for such views. It has been a while since I made the time to climb above it. I almost forgot just how beautiful it could be." Legolas cast a final, pensive glance over the horizon as the sun disappeared behind the trees, ill-hidden yearning in his gaze, before turning back to the room with a rueful smile. "Forgive me, Lord Elrond. It's bad form of me to be so melancholy during this time of celebration."

Elrond shook his head, warmth in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "Do not apologise. It pleases me that you find my home to your liking, although sometimes even I take its beauty for granted."

"You would have to; else you would get nothing done!"

"It was the same for me, when I first came here," Elrond confessed. "It seemed that every corner I turned, there was something else for me to fall in love with. I tried, very hard, to have my head make the decision but my heart knew at once that it had found its new home. It was fortunate for me that my head eventually agreed!"

"Yes, fortunate," Legolas echoed, hoping he didn't sound as wretched as he felt in that moment. He forced himself to smile, though it stretched his face and pulled his lips tight over his teeth. "It would have been difficult for you to leave, no doubt."

"I do not think I could have. Home is where the heart is, or so they say. What of yourself? I know you have been looking forward to returning to the Greenwood."

"Yes. The negotiations are nearly complete and we are needed at home. A few weeks. Two months at most."

"You should have plenty of opportunities to see another sunset before you go, then. Come, let us join the others inside and enjoy ourselves while we can!"

Legolas made to follow Lord Elrond inside but a peal of familiar laughter stopped him in his tracks. He looked through the balcony doors at the merrymakers within.

The tables had been pushed aside to create room for dancing and the food had been replaced with wine. He caught a flash of Melpomaen's robe as the crowd sent him spinning from one partner to the next. Sharp eyes strove to follow the little elf through the throng, from Silinde to Saelbeth, and then another he couldn't name. Then he was gone; swallowed up like the sun swallowed by the horizon.

Legolas took a deep breath as he strode inside. He could not squander this. The sun was setting and there was only two more months to enjoy the view.

There would never be another quite like it.

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	16. Chapter 16: Enjoy the Silence

**Enjoy the Silence, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: R**

**Prompt:** 18. Gift

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** Tolkein's. Not mine.

**Summary**: Words are very unnecessary (I went all Depeche Mode!)

**Author's Notes: **I tried to write fluff but they had other plans. It's not a complete loss. :p

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Everything had changed and Legolas, cradled in Melpomaen's possessive embrace, could not speak of it. He dared not. His head still swimming with pleasure and his body sated to the point of exhaustion, he would likely say something he would later regret.

It was possible Melpomaen had already discerned his developing affections. When Legolas had entered Melpomaen's modest quarters earlier that night he had barely managed a second attempt at congratulations before his world had been filled with dark eyes and wicked hands that seemed to strip more than the clothes from his body.

Those eyes lifted the very flesh from his soul, and it was not until Melpomaen gently kissed his eyelids that Legolas realised he had been forced to close them. Surely Melpomaen had sensed something amiss, for the little poet had foregone his usual playfulness, tonight of all nights, taking him with unprecedented gentle care. Absurd, then, that it was this tenderness that had nearly broken his resolve. Had Melpomaen not silenced him quite so effectively, his traitorous tongue might have revealed more than his head deemed prudent.

Fortunately Melpomaen was fond of this most intimate act and rarely did he reach his peak without his lips pressed firmly to the wood-elf in one way or another. During those moments, when Melpomaen reached for him, urgent and grasping, there was no doubt he was desired. Legolas could almost believe he was loved as well.

Afterwards, Melpomaen propped himself up on one outstretched arm to catch his breath and, although his thighs began to ache with the strain, Legolas felt a keen loss when the Noldo eventually withdrew. Melpomaen had immediately set to fussing, taking a handful of sheets to cleanse the wood-elf before the spattered fluid dried. Legolas stayed his hand, causing the little elf to look up, both surprised and mildly curious.

"Leave it."

To others, it might have sounded like a command, but Legolas commanded nothing of his love. There was a plea in those bliss-brightened eyes and Melpomaen, who loved nothing more than to indulge his wood-elf's whims, granted his wish. With a soft murmur of acquiescence, he nestled alongside Legolas and drew him close, pulling his head to rest onto a small shoulder.

The little poet hummed softly, under his breath, an old lullaby that Legolas had not heard for many a year. When it came to an end a happy sigh tickled Legolas' hair.

"Revenge is sweet," Melpomaen said.

"Revenge? Is that what this was?"

"Oh yes. You, my wild wood-elf, need a firm hand to tame those impulses of yours."

"And you think you have tamed me?" Legolas was not sure he should be smiling at that, yet he did. If anyone could do such a thing, it was Melpomaen. There was little he would not do for the dark-haired beauty.

"Not yet," Melpomaen told him with an impish grin and a spark of mischief, "but I'm enjoying the attempt."

"In that case, feel free to try whenever you want."

Melpomaen leant in for another kiss, though it was interrupted by the laugh he couldn't quite keep in, and Legolas could feel the curve of a broad smile against his own lips. A slender leg slid along his, nudged and pushed until part of the thigh rested snugly against his groin and caused him to inhale sharply.

"Ai, my wild one," Melpomaen whispered. "You should not make such dangerous invitations."

Dangerous, indeed, for what Melpomaen lacked in strength he more than made up for in stamina; a fact which Legolas had foolishly forgotten. He dragged his head away, gasping for breath, but when Melpomaen could no longer reach his lips he simply ravished his neck instead. Melpomaen's mouth was a devastatingly effective weapon.

"Ai! Have you no mercy?"

"None!" the wicked creature exclaimed.

"Then show me none, insatiable Noldo!" the prince gasped, squirming with both pleasure and laughter. "Let's see you try to tame me!"

Once again, Legolas spoke rashly. Melpomaen became hunger, a raw and wholly selfish hunger that could only be satisfied by elven flesh. Flecks of crimson marred the pale skin where he feasted and scoured it clean with hot, wet stripes of tongue. Little warning and even less care was given to his prey's comfort.

Legolas heard the sharp cry of a wounded animal emerge from his own throat when he was spread wide and speared. Eyes fluttered shut. Muscles spasmed. The hunt was successful; his death came quickly.

There was no peace in the afterlife. The hunter turned him, exposed his prize, slaked his greed upon it.

Short, high-pitched yelps slowly became half-formed words, as Legolas toiled under this near unendurable torment. "Please!" he gasped. "Please, I can't! I can't!"

And truly he thought it was so, until his tormentor proceeded to make a liar out of him.

This time Legolas did not stop the fussing hands. He lay there weak as a newborn foal, dazed and uncertain of his trembling limbs, while he was tended. Gentle now, Melpomaen coddled him with brief touches on over-sensitized skin, and carefully brushing aside the tangled mess of golden hair that had fallen into his face. Legolas blinked and brought his eyes to focus. The little elf was frowning at him intently.

"Are you alright, Legolas?

The prince granted his little love a tired smile. "You… have not… tamed me yet," he murmured.

Melpomaen uttered a surprised chortle that rapidly transformed into an exasperated exclamation. "Wood-elves! You just don't know when to quit!"

"We are a very proud people."

"You are a very stubborn people!"

"That too." Legolas shifted into a more comfortable position, blushing lightly. "If you ever come to the Greenwood, I think you would fit in well."

"That seems unlikely."

"No, you would."

Melpomaen gave him a sidelong glance and said, quietly, "I meant that it is unlikely I will ever visit the Greenwood."

Legolas tried not to let the hard truth affect him but he could feel his smile fading. It was another of those little reminders he would rather do without. Melpomaen was not like him, or others of similar rank, who had both reason and resource to move between realms. It was highly improbable Melpomaen had ventured outside Imladris since he had been brought here as an elfling.

"That is… a shame," the wood-elf eventually offered. "You would be welcome there, should you ever make use of my gift."

"Gift?"

"For your begetting day. I did promise you one."

"Yes, but I said I didn't need one! Having you here tonight is enough."

"Please, Melpomaen, I want you to have this."

It did not take much convincing. The little elf was inquisitive by nature, though one look at the stiffness with which Legolas began to move was enough for him to insist he retrieve the belt that had been discarded on the other side of the room.

From one of the stitched compartments Legolas pulled a small packet, wrapped in a layer of fine silk. It was this he gave to Melpomaen, whose eyes asked for permission before he swiftly uncovered the item within: a chain, finely-wrought, with silvered leaves and shining links. It was a beautiful gift, and a costly one too, Melpomaen acknowledged with stunned disbelief.

Legolas did not give the little elf a chance to comment, taking up the chain and sweeping aside Melpomaen's dark hair. When it was fastened, Melpomaen felt an unexpected weight settle on his chest. He looked down and his eyes grew wider still.

The little elf lifted his gaze, astonishment obvious, to question Legolas with an incredulous expression. The prince was quick to answer.

"My gift is not the chain, Melpomaen, or even the ring I have attached to it, but the protection it will afford you. If you are ever in trouble, come to me, come to the Greenwood. You need only show this to the sentries to be granted safe passage."

All vestiges of sanity had been driven from the prince's once rational mind. It was the only conclusion, for the ring Legolas had gifted him bore the crest of his house, the royal house. There would be repercussions should it ever be discovered, not the least of which would be his father's wrath. There was a reason one did not provoke King Thranduil!

"Legolas…" came a barely audible whisper. "I can't accept this! I could be arrested just for wearing it! They'll say I stole it!"

"Keep it hidden then! That's why it's on a chain and not on your hand, though I think it would not fit you, at any rate. Please accept it; it will… it will bring me great comfort to know you have it."

"Ai… I don't know what to say…"

"Say that you'll keep it."

Melpomaen took a deep breath. "Legolas, I'm not sure how many shocks a person can take in one day. This is… it's… I don't have the words."

"It's beautiful on you." Legolas stated, openly admiring Melpomaen's slight figure. He decided he rather liked the way the little elf looked wearing naught but his ring. An idea broke into his thoughts, an image of glinting metal flashing at the corner of his vision and fleeting touches of coolness skipping across his shoulders. He grinned. "But if you wish to thank me, you need not use words."

It was a superbly executed diversionary tactic, in the prince's opinion, for Melpomaen's eyes immediately blackened and pinned him with predatory interest. "Wood-elf! When will you learn not to tempt me?"

Legolas did not reply, but then he did not think Melpomaen expected one, considering his ability to do so was swiftly stolen away. His little lover was in fine form tonight, he mused. Perhaps in the morning, Melpomaen would look back and realise what had not been said.

He had never feared the dawn before.

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	17. Chapter 17: Diversionary Tactics

**Diversionary Tactics, Pairing: Legolas/Melpomaen, Rating: PG-13**

**Fandom:** LOTR FPS

**Prompt:** 07. breakfast

**Word Count:** 1186

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** Tolkein's. Not mine.**  
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**Summary**: The morning after the night before, Legolas covers his tracks.

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Considering the merrymaking that had occurred the previous night, Legolas' absence from the breakfast table was hardy surprising. Of the few that were there, most had simply not gone to bed at all and were treating the light meal as more of a supper. The low level of attendance was appreciated by the servants, whose numbers were also severely depleted.

By noon, Imladris was beginning to return to some semblance of order. The subdued quiet of the morning was gradually broken and the deserted hallways sounded with footsteps once more, even if the owners of those feet regarded one another with rueful smiles. The day following celebrations of such magnitude were always somewhat tender affairs for those lucky enough to have been included.

When the table in one of the smaller and more exclusive dining halls was laid for the afternoon meal, however, the lack of a certain woodland prince could no longer go unnoticed. The seat next to Lord Elrond was glaringly unoccupied and, although the social gaffe was graciously ignored by their host and his sons, Greenwood's ambassador was mortified.

Galion discreetly motioned to a passing page and whispered into his ear. Under the table, a carefully folded piece of parchment exchanged hands. The page nodded and left.

This was also not commented upon and conversation continued along matters inconsequential.

It was during the second course, another tiny, one-bite palate cleanser, that Legolas finally made his appearance. He comported himself with his usual self-confident assurance and poise, quietly apologising for his tardiness as he took his seat, but Galion's trained eye perceived the embarrassment beneath that façade.

His smiles were a shade too quick, as were his hands, and his eyes darted nervously from one person to the next. There was a crease in his collar, another in his trousers, and his belt sat awkwardly at his waist where it had been fastened in haste. It was obvious to everyone that the prince had been caught unawares.

Elrond brushed aside the apology with one of his own.

"Forgive me, Legolas," he began, for the unassuming prince had long ago requested that they forego the encumbrances of titles, "I thought you left the festivities early, else I would have arranged for someone to rouse you."

To Elrond's chagrin, and everyone else's amused surprise, his apology did not have the desired effect. The faint pink grazing Legolas' cheeks grew to a rosy-eared flush and spread right down to his crumpled collar. With an all too noticeable fumble, his butter knife fell onto his dinner knife with clink and a clatter.

The decorative candle in the centre of the table flickered and danced, buffeted by the sudden surprised exhalations; the prince's response was awaited with baited breath.

Legolas licked his lips uneasily. "Quite understandable. After my impromptu demonstration of Greenwood traditions, I felt it wise to keep a low profile. Glorfindel seemed keen on speaking with me, whereas I deemed it prudent to leave that particular conversation for a later date."

By the end of his explanation, both twins were struggling to hide their snickers. Even Lord Elrond could not stop the corners of his mouth creeping upwards.

"Yes, indeed, though I suspect it was not so much the tradition as it was the subject. Glorfindel is a devoted champion when it comes to our little Melpomaen."

"We did warn you, if you recall," said Elrohir.

"You warned me not to hurt him. You never said anything about kissing him," Legolas pointed out, resulting in a fresh round of grins.

"Where Mel is concerned, they are one and the same. He is not very experienced in the ways of the heart…" Elrond trailed off, seeing the prince's eyes widen in apparent horror.

"Not very experienced?" Legolas repeated in a tight voice.

"I'm afraid not. I'm certain he was not distressed, however, for I saw him enjoying the company of his friends not long after."

"I… I see," Legolas managed to choke out. He hardly knew what to say. They thought Melpomaen was an innocent? His Melpomaen? The same Melpomaen that had practically molested him the first day they met and whose cock had performed a rather spectacular celebratory dance in his backside only last night? His little poet certainly hadn't exaggerated when he said his friends were overprotective!

Elrond gave him a sympathetic look. "As I said, Melpomaen will be fine. You should not concern yourself over it."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. Had I known, I might have employed a gentler technique."

Elrond blinked. "It seemed a chaste enough kiss to me. You would not have foregone the act altogether?"

"No, of course not. It is one of our honoured traditions, after all." At this, Galion snorted quietly. Legolas glared at him.

"Fascinating," Elrond said. "Perhaps you could enlighten us as to its origins?"

"Aye, now this we must hear!" Elladan added. "Perhaps it is time for a similar tradition to appear in Imladris."

"I quite agree," said Elrohir. "What say you, brother? Should we take it in turns or spar for the honour?"

"You will do neither." Elrond glowered at his sons, who shrank back in their seats but did not stop grinning. The idea had quite tickled their rampant imaginations.

Galion uttered a quiet chuckle. "Perhaps it would surprise you to hear, Lord Elrond, that this particular royal prerogative was introduced in much the same fashion as your sons suggest?"

That caused a curious brow to rise. The twins looked questioningly at Legolas, who gave an embarrassed smile and half-shrug in reply. Normally the prince would think twice before relating this particular tale but today he was more than happy; it would doubtless be an excellent diversion from a much more sensitive topic.

"It's true," he admitted. "It was my grandfather that began it. My father tells me that when Oropher first came to the Greenwood he fell in love with a Silvan maid. Despite all his attempts to court her in the traditional Silvan ways, she would have nothing to do with him, and so he decided he would have to woo her as a Sindarin would."

Galion snickered and, with a shared smirk, motioned for Legolas to continue with his tale. Legolas grinned.

"Unfortunately for the maid, none of the Silvan people knew what was custom for the Sindar and what was not, and thus my grandfather invented all manner of interesting traditions. We decided to keep the ones that worked."

Elrond's grin split his face and slowly, he began to laugh. It was a deep, warm, heartfelt sound that soon had everyone joining him. "Oh," he gasped, "I can just imagine Oropher doing that. He was a crafty one, your grandfather."

"So I'm told." Legolas tried not to preen. After all, at least some of that craftiness had been passed down through the generations.

"And you are duty-bound to continue this most noble tradition, of course." Elladan couldn't resist a little dig.

"Of course."

"Hmm… do you think we will be at war when Glorfindel kills you?"

"Elladan!" Elrond sharply admonished. He was brought up short when Legolas began to laugh.

"Probably."

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